Grandfather's Clock
by oatniel
Summary: In 1936, Luke Triton's life is blown apart by the secrets of those closest to him. In 2011, Kayn Laurie is ready to discover just what those secrets were - and just what they had to do with that strange top-hatted man. (Ten-parter, rated T for mature themes.)
1. Foreword

**Grandfather's Clock**

_**foreword**_

_"What was this house like when you were little?"_

_"When I was little? I didn't live here when I was little, Kayn!"_

_"Which house did you live in?"_

_"I didn't live in any house round here. I lived in a place called London."_

_"With the Queen?"_

_"No, we didn't have a Queen. We had a King. Not that I lived with him either."_

_"Did you just live with your mummy and daddy?"_

_I remember the look on his face, as though the question I had asked was far more difficult, almost painful..._

_"It's getting late, Kayn, and I promised Nana that I'd have you in bed by half past seven. Remember she shouted at me last week?"_

You'd think that some secrets would be impossible to keep, and I was beginning to think so, too. This man, this apparently incredible man, had touched the hearts of so many, yet had left such a lot of confusion in his footsteps... he had devoted his life to solving mysteries, and had left one of his very own behind. Within that mystery, there are several others.

I never knew him, but someone close to me did - yet not even grandfather knew him well enough to understand the truth.

Well, I was determined to understand what my grandfather never did.

My name is Kayn Laurie.

**In 1936, Luke Triton unravels the secrets that might just destoy his family.**

**In 2011, Kayn Laurie decides to discover just what it was that ripped his grandfather's life apart, and what it had to do with Hershel Layton.**

**Ten chapters, two eras,  
One man and his dark, dark past.**

_**A ten-part thriller/mystery by oatniel,  
inspired by ITV1's 'Lightfields' and 'Marchlands'**_


	2. Chapter 1

**Grandfather's Clock**

_**1936**_

"Eggs, Professor?"

"Err, I... I'm not all that hungry, Flora. But thank you."

Luke looked up at the professor as he finished off the last bites of his breakfast, a surprised look on his face.

"It's really nice, Professor. It's actually really, _really_ nice!"

Flora turned around, smiling, as she plated up two eggs and some bacon for the professor, disregarding his refusal. She had made breakfast taste _nice _for once, and she was going to make sure as many people as possible would witness it - much to her luck, that's when a key turned the lock to the front door and a rather flustered Emmy greeeted them.

"Good morning!" she smiled, looking straight over at Luke as he picked up his cleared plate and put it by the sink, then at Flora, "Oh, Flora, you made breakfast..."

"Yes!"

"And, Luke, you... you ate it?"

Flora looked a little offended by the surprise in Emmy's voice, but was quickly cured of her annoyance when Luke nodded and smiled.

"Yep! It was lovely. Best breakfast I've had in a long time. Thank you, Flora."

"That's alright, Luke. Would you like some breakfast, Emmy?"

"Well, if this is a fluke, I'd better make the most of your good cooking skills while I can. Bacon sandwich, please?"

Flora nodded, placing two pieces of bacon and two of bread into the pan. Frying bread in oil? It looked as though Flora's cooking skills had suddenly taken another dip and all was back to normal.

"So," Emmy started, "What's happening today?"

"Well, I could really use some help cleaning my office. And by 'some help', I mean I would really like someone to do the cleaning in my office while I'm at the meeting today, since the board's inspector wants to speak with me tomorrow."

"That's what Floras are for..." Emmy groaned, met with yet another expression of irritation from the girl behind her. "Anyway, Flora, you have a job on a sewing machine, you've just discovered your... ehm, _cooking skills_... you can't skip out now because you don't like cleaning, you're the makings of a perfect housewife!"

"Just because I work on a sewing machine, it does not mean that manufacturing expensive underwear is my calling!" Flora debated, "And, for your information, the only reason I cooked this morning is because Luke needed a proper breakfast, what with his university letter coming through today and all..."

"Emmy," started the professor, leaning towards her in a somewhat condescending manner, "I wouldn't normally ask you to complete such a menial task, but my offi-"

"Just a minute, Professor!" she interrupted. Her attention had been caught by Flora's explanation, "University letter?"

"We're expecting my university place letter in the post today. I'll find out whether or not I got into Oxford." Luke told her, bored by the sound of the sentence - he believed with every bone that he would not be accepted. He knew he was intelligent enough, but the professor could not afford to send Luke to such a high profile university, so he had needed to take a scholarship exam, and that's where Luke's doubts began. Oxford were not going to give him a scholarship unless he passed with a correct answers rate of 96%, and he was just not sure if he had done well enough. Besides, Luke wanted to study Vetinary Practices, and 'the correct treatment of a sick animal' was, of course, not a topic that had been included in his entrance exam... and when he had been asked about his desire to become a vetinarian, the college interviewer didn't seem to think Luke had the drive and passion to succeed.

In short terms, Luke was sure that he had made a right balls up of his education.

"Don't look so nervous!" Flora instructed, "We know you can do this."

"There's nothing I can do _now_, though," Luke told her, looking more than a little defeated, "It's all finished. I'm just waiting to see how much I messed it up."

"Exactly! You're just waiting to see how much you messed it up!" Emmy exclaimed, patting him encouragingly on the back - Luke was admittedly confused.

"Excuse me?" the professor asked, echoing his young apprentice's thoughts.

"Well, you can't do anything about it now," she started, "so you're just waiting, but you're waiting to see how much you _messed up_. Don't get yourself in a state like that, Luke, where you're expecting the worst... you may think it'll stop you from being disappointed if it hasn't gone to plan, but it won't. You can tell yourself you're going to be shot, it isn't going to stop it hurting if you are."

"I don't follow."

"Basically, just calm down," Flora chipped in, "because whatever happens, you can't change it now, whether you worry or not. I mean, what if you don't get the letter today? Are you going to continue feeling like a failure until you get it and find out for sure? You might have done really well, but if you're worrying like this... this is time you won't get back and you're spending it feeling anxious!"

"They're both right." Layton nodded, looking up from his newspaper, "Now, Emmy... about my office?"

It looked as though fate was on Emmy's side, as the post dropped onto the doormat before Layton could say anything further.

All four sat in silence, staring at the small pile of letters on the mat, Layton being the first to break the silence.

"Luke?"

Luke didn't look away from the letters as he hummed in response.

"Aren't you going to go and see? Your letter might not even have arrived."

Luke walked out of the kitchen and through to the front door, picking up the letters, sifting through them until he came to the one he was most interested in. The eyes of Layton, Emmy and Flora were stuck on him as he messed with the corner of the envelope, unable to open it, unable to prepare himself for whatever it said.

He had been waiting his whole life for this moment. Since he was a boy, he had pinned every hope for his future - the career he dreamed of pursueing, the vetinary hospital he dreamed of owning - on a place at Oxford university.

"What was I just saying?" Emmy asked him, "That you can't do anything to change whatever is in that envelope? All you can do is take a breath and hope for the best."

"But what if I didn't get in? What if everything was a waste of time?"

Silence again, but this time broken by Flora.

"Just open it, you big girl."

"Flora!" the professor scalded, "What's wrong, Luke?"

"Will you... will you open it?" he asked, outstretching his arms with the letter in his hand. Layton looked unsure.

"Do you really want _me_ to open it? Wouldn't you rather open it yourself, Luke?"

"I can't think of anything I'd rather have than for you to give me the most important news of my life so far. If I got in, it's because of you, and if I didn't, I know that you're proud of me no matter what."

Layton showed little emotional reaction to the sentiment, but Flora and Emmy both knew that he was brimming with pride and would most likely cry over it later - once they knew what was in the envelope.

The professor took the letter from Luke, turning it over and running his hand over the seal on the back.

"And now we know where Luke learned the art of stalling..." Emmy laughed, a hand on the professor's shoulder. "Open it. Go on."

Layton picked up a breakfast knife from the centre of the table, tearing a neat opening at the top of the envelope and pulling out the folded letter, trying in vain to disguise the fact that his hands were shaking, nervous for Luke more than he had ever been nervous for himself.

Luke grabbed Flora's hand and pulled her next to him, Flora whimpering in surprise by the certain jolt of movement, though she was happy that Luke had wanted her to provide some lack-lustre form of moral support.

All eyes were on Layton, but as he silently read the first line, his face dropped, Luke's heart sinking with it...

"I didn't make it in, did I?"

Layton shook his head at Flora as she put her arm around Luke... before a smile formed across his lips.

"Looks like I'm going to have to be stuck with Miss Reinhold while you're away at university."

"What?" Luke exclaimed, looking up like a shot, "You mean... you mean I did it?!"

"Of course you did, Luke, what did you expect?"

"I got in!" he cheered, "I actually got in! Oh my god, Flora, I got in!"

"I know! I know you did!"

Luke threw his arms around Flora, squealing like a pig in it's trough, as Layton and Emmy got up to join them, congratulating him. Luke deserved that place. Luke deserved the happiness it had brought him to know that his hard work had paid off.

"Well done, my boy," Layton smiled, pulling Luke into a less-than-manly embrace. Luke had known the Professor since he was born, and had lived with him since he was nine years old. He may not have been the only father Luke had ever known, but a far better one than the father that shared his blood, that gave him up because Luke was different, because Luke's mind worked in a special way. He loved Luke as his own, as not only his best friend but as the closest thing to a son he would almost certainly ever know. This acheivement - as with all of Luke's acheivements - was one that Layton could celebrate and share in, feeling nothing but pride for the boy he introduced as his apprentice, but knew as his son. "I'm sure you'll agree this causes for celebration!"

"What sort of celebration?"

"Well... champagne?"

"At eight in the morning?!" Emmy laughed, "Now now, professor!"

"Eight in the morning in England, but it's bound to be an appropriate hour somewhere."

"I've never seen this version of you before, professor," Flora grinned, "I'm not sure what I think!"

"Well, _I think_ we're not going to see a Hershel Layton like this for a long time, and we should take advantage while we can."

"Excuse me, Emmy, but who mentioned anything about 'taking advantage'?" the professor smiled, "Well, I'll run down to Pendon Street for a bottle... or two..."

The professor was putting on his jacket and about to leave when Emmy interrupted.

"Oh, wait, professor!"

"Yes?"

"Pendon Street store is closed, you'll have to go to the one across the road."

Layton looked at his watch, "But Mr Vere opens the store at seven thirty every day... odd. What made him close it?"

"Well," Emmy started, frowning, "I hate to lower the tone of the morning but he was arrested last night..."

"Arrested?!" Flora echoed, "Mr Vere?! For what?"

"Murder, would you believe it."

"No... not Mr Vere." Layton said, shaking his head, "There must be some misunderstanding."

"There's no misunderstanding," she told him, "I heard a detective tell his nephew when I was on my way here."

"Even so... it's difficult to believe that Mr Vere could be capable of, no, _suspected_ of being responsible for a murder."

"I was shocked myself, professor. He's been running that store since I was... well, as long as I can remember. And I'm getting old."

"You're twenty-seven, Emmy," the professor stated, obviously, "You've no idea what 'old' means."

"What was that rule about gentlemen and ladies' ages?" Flora smiled, teasingly, as the professor continued to put on his jacket.

"And what's that burning smell?" the professor asked in response - Flora shot around quickly to look at the cooker and check she would not be responsible for any fires on the most important day of her best friend's life so far. "I'll see you all when I get back."

As the front door closed, Luke flashed a huge smile to Flora, pulling her close to him again.

"I cannot believe I got in... I was so sure I'd messed it up."

"Don't be silly," Flora told him, "We all knew you would do well."

"Agreed," declared Emmy, clearing away the remaining plates, "I've known you since I was younger than you are now, met you when you were that strange little nine-year-old boy... you've grown up being the smartest kid I ever met."

"Thanks, Emmy. Well, I should probably go and wash, shouldn't I?"

"Probably."

"Well done, Luke." Flora smiled, as he went to leave the room and go upstairs, Luke looking back, ever-so-slightly confused.

"I'm just going for a wash, most people do it. I hope you do, occasionally." Luke told her, sarcasm lining his voice as he spoke with a smirk on his face.

"You know what I mean, Triton! Anyway, go on... if you don't wash now, you might start moulding."

"Wouldn't want that, would we?" he laughed, beginning to mimic his mentor's voice, "A true gentleman never greets a lady if he smells of landfill, sewage or yesterday's exercise."

"Eugh!" Emmy scoffed, disgusted, "He certainly _would not_!"

"Then why are you two keeping me talking when I should be stripping off in a seductive manner by the sink?"

That was a question that they both met with a look of distaste, as the idea of Luke 'stripping off in a seductive manner' hit them... both Flora and Emmy knew that Luke loosened into his real, teasing self when the professor wasn't around. If the professor _was_ around when Luke had decided to describe the sexual manner in which he washes himself, he would have most definitely been given a talking-to.

"See you in a bit!" Luke grinned, making his way upstairs, Emmy shaking her head as he went.

"That boy does not know when to stop!" Emmy laughed, Flora nodding and laughing with her in agreement.

"As if _we _want to know what he does when he's got no clothes on! Luke seems to think all I ever have on my mind is what goes on when he's alone..."

"He's only teasing," Emmy smiled, "But isn't that what you're thinking?"

"What?! _No_! Of course not!"

Flora had never denied an accusation so surely in her life, but Emmy had her mind made up.

"Hmm, I don't know... you and Luke have lived together for... what is it, four years by now? Four years! And you're clear in your affections for him."

"But not like that. Really, Emmy... I love Luke. More than anything. Just... well, like I'd love a brother more than anything."

"Well, I have four brothers, and certainly do not value them as much as you seem to care for Luke. Although, maybe that's because you grew up an only child and met Luke once he'd already grown out of the 'violently ripping the limbs from your teddies and dolls' phase that all my brothers went through... nevertheless, Luke certainly seems extremely fond of you."

"As a friend." Flora added, sternly, Emmy quickly disregarding her.

"As more!"

"Well, you're entitled to think so, but... even so, I don't return it."

"You could do a lot worse than Luke, Flora. He's a gentleman. I've been in four relationships, all with men whose ideas of manners were 'ladies first... into the kitchen to make me a sandwich'. And when I told them that I was assistant to a university professor, they looked at me as though a woman with a mind set on things other than children, kittens and fashion was something they'd never come across before. Luke isn't like that, Flora, he's a real young gentleman. And let's face it, he's an attractive boy."

"Emmy!" Flora exclaimed, "He is _nine years_ younger than you!"

"Yes, and I'm simply saying that... if I was nine years younger, I would not be turning down a boy with Luke's face and physique."

"I know that that's what you were saying, Emmy, that's why I reacted like that!" she told her, "I don't want to be sitting there when he gets downstairs thinking 'as Luke enters the room, Emmy begins wondering just what he really looks like underneath all those clothes'!"

"Your words, not mine..." she teased, Flora just shaking her head. And yet, she couldn't help knowing that Emmy was right - Luke was most definitely attractive. Puberty had hit him like a ton of bricks - yet these bricks had made him tall, deep-voiced and, yes, rather handsome.

"Look, Luke is extremely important to me," she explained, "But I have never, and will never, want to be with him in that way. I love him and I hope we know each other closely for the rest of our lives, but..."

Flora stayed quiet and thoughtful for a moment before turning back to Emmy.

"He's my best friend."

"Isn't there a belief that friendship is the most important factor in a relationship?"

"Well, I can't make any more excuses, I guess... just... I don't know, leave it?"

"Hm," Emmy hummed, a closed-up smile gracing her face, "Whatever you say, Reinhold."

Around ten minutes later, Luke came downstairs, his blue blazer clean but for that little red blue stain on the shoulder that never seemed to go away, and Flora couldn't get what Emmy had said off of her mind. Did Luke really feel that way about her? She'd never imagined that he would.

She wasn't his type, was she? Luke was intelligent, ambitious. Flora was different. There had been no schools in St. Mystere, so her parents had tried to teach her as well as they could - she could not write very well, but she loved to read, so everything else she had learned was from books. She knew nothing about science, unlike Luke, who lived and breathed it (quite literally, he had once told her, before laughing as he left the room, proud of himself for making his very first science joke). She knew very little about music, though Luke was a musical prodigy. Flora was, after fifteen years of living in isolation from the modern world before moving to the country's busy capital, happy to stay in London - she was now eighteen and had a job, working in a tiny factory where she spent hours at a sewing machine making underwear, and she was happy with that. Luke, however, was a go-getter. They were both so different. How could Luke feel anything towards her?

Though to Flora, it would make things much simpler if he didn't, anyway.

Minutes later, the professor was back, a bag in his arms containing two bottles of champagne. Flora ran over to take the bag from him, and immediately noticed he didn't look himself.

"Professor? What's wrong?" she enquired, as he looked at her through wide eyes before shaking his head.

"Nothing, just... well, all this with Mr Vere, that's all, it's just a shock seeing so many policemen out there. All these things we solve and this is happening on our doorstep."

"Did they mention anything about a victim while you were near?" Emmy asked, the professor just staring in the same place.

"It wasn't anyone we know, was it?"

"What? Oh, no, you... you and Flora didn't know him, and I don't think you did, either, Emmy. They're opening up an old case, from ten years ago, and Mr Vere's under suspicion."

Flora, Luke and Emmy all looked on at the professor. 'You and Flora and Emmy didn't know him'... so the professor did? Was this victim a friend of his? If so, then seeing the case re-open must have opened old wounds with it...

"Are you alright, professor?" Luke asked, concerned, as the professor pulled a bottle of champagne from the bag. His hands were shaking, really shaking.

"I'm fine, Luke. As I said, this is all quite strange, isn't it? Anyway, we're meant to be celebrating! Flora, fetch the glasses from the cupboard, please!" he smiled, but with Luke and Emmy somehow unconvinced.

"Professor," Emmy started, gently, "Who _was _the victim?"

"Oh, didn't I... didn't I say?"

"No, you just said we didn't know him."

"Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't realise." he apologised, fidgeting with his hands in a way he hadn't before, "Well, I... I don't suppose you remember the Bridgley case? 1925?"

"Corneil Bridgley? Yes, I was 17 at the time, it was before I started working for you. Terrible deal, that was... didn't he have four little kiddies?"

"Yes."

By now, Flora's ears had pricked up. Corneil Bridgley, killed in 1925, with four children.

"And they think Mr Vere killed him?!" Luke asked - the professor nodded.

"Look, please, let's stop talking about murder and such. It's a big day for you, Luke. Let's spend it in celebration." the professor urged, popping the champagne cork and pouring out four glasses of the drink, before handing them out.

"To Luke." he smiled, raising his glass. Flora and Emmy did the same.

Luke was beaming inside... he'd finally got what he had been working for since he was a child.

And yet, the day seemed fairly unwell.

**-ooooo-**

It was around twelve-thirty in the afternoon when the professor left for his meeting, leaving the house to Emmy, Luke and Flora once again. Flora had been quiet all morning, as Luke and Emmy talked excitedly about their future plans and the many things they both hoped to do. The future was looking bright for Luke, brighter than it had looked before. He knew what he wanted to do, to be, to have. The one thing he really wanted, he felt, would never be his... but it hadn't stopped him loving her.

"I've still got to go and clean the professor's office..." Emmy groaned, slipping down into the sofa a little more, "Not looking forward to that."

Flora got up, collecting the empty mugs from the table, smiling. "Do you want another cup of tea before you go?"

"You get lovelier by the minute, Flora!" Emmy told her, eagerly anticipating the cup of tea that might just make the prospect of an afternoon's cleaning seem a lot less painful.

"Can I have one too, please, Flora?" Luke asked, as Flora left. Once the silence was there, Luke decided to ask a question that had been on his mind since that morning. "Emmy, about what we were saying this morning..."

"About what?"

"Mr Vere being arrested."

"What about it?"

"Well," Luke began, "When the professor found out the victim's name, he said me and Flora didn't know him, and then he said you didn't either..."

"I didn't." Emmy told him, "Why do you ask?"

"Is it possible that the professor knew him?" Luke asked, curiously, "I mean... surely, if he didn't, he would have just said 'no, we didn't know him', but he said that, he excluded himself from it. And it was in 1925, I only met him in 1927, so did you."

Emmy looked thoughtful for a while, recounting the dates and the professor's words in her mind.

"Well... yes, I suppose the professor may have known him. In fact, Corneil Bridgley was a university professor, too."

"At Gressenheller?"

"No, no, not at Gressenheller. I don't remember a great deal about it, Luke, I was 17 at the time, I wasn't really an avid reader of newspapers. I knew from my mother more than anything. I can't remember a great deal... it was quite tragic, though, I remember that much. There's one thing I remember that always stuck in my mind because it was... well, it was just awful."

"What was that?"

"He had a wife and four children, and he was found on his little boy's eighth birthday. They never found out who was responsible. Well, until... until they arrested Mr. Vere..."

Luke shook his head in dismay. Tragic. Really tragic.

"Terrible..." Luke declared, disturbed by the misfortune of the poor man's family, "And... you think he could have been a friend of the professor's?"

"Now you mention it, I think that he might have been."

Luke sat back into his chair, another question escaping him. "Why didn't he say anything? I mean, he was clearly shaken up."

"You know our professor, Luke, he's too proud. He doesn't wear his emotions because he likes to be there for others. That's why he never mentioned Claire to us. If something is hurting him, he won't show it, because he's been there for so many people... I suppose he feels like you and Flora would see him upset and then feel like you couldn't go to him about it."

"That's silly, though..." Luke said, "He should know that nothing will ever stop me and Flora trusting him with everything. He's human too, he should be able to show it if he's hurt."

"Well, he just doesn't see it that way, I suppose." Emmy laughed slightly as she thought of the professor, "He's a stubborn old fellow. He takes himself too seriously, doesn't he?"

Luke couldn't help but smile at Emmy as she said it... "He probably only takes himself so seriously to balance out the fact that you don't take him seriously at all!"

"Well, sometimes, Luke, Hershel Layton needs to be told to relax a little!" she smiled - it was at this moment that Flora appeared at the living room doorway, pale and looking dizzy, as though she was in a rush.

"Emmy, I'm just going to have to run to the store. We've no tea in the cupboard."

"Alright, Flora," Emmy said, "Well, you know, you don't have to..."

"No, I... I don't mind, look, I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Well, I might have left by the time you get ba- oh."

Halfway through the sentence, Flora had left.

"Flora..." Luke muttered, too quiet and too late for her to hear, since she was most likely halfway down their street by now.

"What was that about?", asked Emmy, though she knew that Luke himself had no idea what had gotten into her.

Luke got up and went into the kitchen, as Emmy heard the kitchen cupboards opening and closing, before Luke came back in, confused.

"There's four boxes of tea in the cupboard."

"Four?!"

"The professor doesn't like to be without tea, we never run out. Anyway, anyway... that's not the point. The point is, she knew that. Also, the professor always keeps some money on the plate on the window-dash and she hasn't taken any... if we ever need to go to the store, he always tells us to use that."

"Well, I'm sure she just forgot, Luke, she must be worried about the professor, same as me and you are."

"No," Luke said, shaking his head, "Flora isn't disorganised or forgetful or anything... I know her better than that. Also, she's been acting rather strange recently..."

"Strange?"

Luke thought about it for a moment. He'd noticed Flora's behaviour and how she'd been acting differently, and he couldn't help feeling it was so out of character and odd. If anything - _anything_ - was wrong, she usually told him. She hadn't told him anything recently, though... and if she hadn't told him anything, maybe she wouldn't want him telling Emmy that something was wrong. Emmy didn't give up once she knew there was something to find out.

"Just different. Anyway, I'm sure it's nothing, let's just wait for her to get back."

"Luke, is Flora okay?"

_No. Clearly. She looked upset just now when she rushed out._

"She's fine."

"Oh. Alright. It's just... well, I know you care about her, that's all.", Emmy stated, turning away and looking through the living room window.

For Luke, this was shaping up to be a very funny sort of day. He'd had the best news of his life, and everything had been celebration, then suddenly, something was wrong. Something was wrong with the two most important people in his life, and they were telling him nothing.

Fifteen minutes later, Emmy left to go and run her errands for Layton - but Flora wasn't back yet.

Thirty minutes later, Flora still wasn't home.

In fact, it was an hour and a half before the door opened, and Luke rushed into the hallway to check it was her.

"Flora!"

"Yes?" she asked, smiling innocently as though nothing had happened.

"You've been out since half past one, where the hell have you been?"

She held up the little blue box as though it was self-explanatory, taking off her coat and hanging it on the bannister of the stairway. "I went to get tea, I told you."

Flora walked through to the kitchen, Luke following her, unconvinced.

"Since when does that take over an hour?"

"You always did say I was easily distracted!" Flora laughed, smiling - but Luke noticed something that contradicted the smile a great deal. Flora's eyes looked the tiniest bit pink, the skin around them looking sore and irritated, as though she had been crying.

"Flora..."

"Luke, calm down, really. You're silly." she smiled, ruffling his hair. He only pushed her hand away, making sure she knew that he was aware she was keeping something from him.

He looked down at the blue box of tea that Flora had placed on the countertop.

"You know we hadn't run out, don't you?"

"No. Well, that's fine, because we're even less likely to run out now that I bought some more."

Luke picked up the box - it was open. And half empty.

"You _bought_ a used box of tea?"

Flora said nothing for a while, so Luke continued.

"And you _bought_ it without _money_?"

"What?"

"You didn't take any money."

"Luke," she sighed, "I don't know why you're so suspicious of me, but-"

"I'd say I have good reason!"

"Luke, in case you didn't notice, I'm talking!" she scalded, waiting for him to be silent before she continued, "I don't know why you're so suspicious of me, but you really need to calm down. This... I don't know... interrogation thing. It doesn't suit you."

Flora left the kitchen, walking upstairs, but Luke spoke before she was out of sight.

"Flora, you're welcome to keep things from me, but don't take me for an idiot."

She said nothing as she went into her bedroom, the door closing behind her.

But it wasn't okay that she kept things from him. Especially not this time. She was upset, and she wouldn't let him help.

And that wasn't okay.

It had been a funny sort of day for Luke.

**-oooo-**

**THIS WAS LONG. PLEASE COMMENT.  
Next chapter takes place in 2011 - I hope you guys will stay tuned for that :)**


	3. Chapter 2

**Strap yourselves in, it's a long'un! Although, I worked really hard on this chapter and I'm hoping you'll understand why it had to be this long!**

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

**Grandfather's Clock**

**2011**

"Are you sure you're ready?"

Kayn took a deep breath in as Jem waited at the door with him. Honestly? No. No, he wasn't sure he was ready, but if he waited until he was really, truly ready, he would never get it done.

"Yeah, let's just... let's go."

As Kayn reached into his pocket to pull out the key, Jem took his other hand in his, continuing to speak as Kayn put the key in the lock, turning it slowly.

"We don't have to do this today, you know, Kayn. There's always tomorrow, Thursday, Friday... I just don't want you to upset yourself while it's so... I don't know. Raw."

Kayn was wondering if it would ever stop being 'raw', if he'd ever stop waking up in bed every morning, wondering where he was, why he wasn't at home, why grandpa Tea hadn't called him yet, asking where he was... he wondered if he'd ever stop forgetting, for the first few seconds of the day, what had happened. He didn't think he would.

"No," he sighed, eventually, "It's been a month already, Jem. I mean, I can't keep staying with you, can I?"

"You can stay as long as you like, remember what my mum said."

"Well, I think a month is long enough. Anyway, it's... well, this is my home, isn't it? And there's always going to be memories of Tea. Like, the cloakroom still smells of my gran's perfume, and she... well, she's not been around for four years."

"But didn't you say she wore really strong perfume?"

"Strong, Jem, but not four years worth of strong!" he smiled, memories flooding back to him of the bitter smell of gran's Jean Du Paque 'cinnamon... with a hint of surprise' fragrance that she'd bought from the French market.

"What's the surprise?" Kayn had asked, at the time. Grandpa Tea had laughed, sniffed his gran's neck and declared 'the surprise is that your gran paid £36 for something that smells like your unwashed socks'.

Gran had refused to cook and kept Tea on a diet of lettuce and muesli for a whole week after that comment.

Jem looked at Kayn as he felt the grip on his hand tighten - Kayn could say until the sun dropped and rose that he was ready to go home, but he knew him better than that. Jem could tell when Kayn was trying to put on a brave face, and he could certainly see it at that moment.

"Kayn," he started, using his thumb to turn Kayn's chin so he was facing him, "This is your home and you can come back any time you like, but you really need to make sure that you're not going in there before you're ready. I mean, Tea's belongings aren't going to sort themselves, you have to do that, and it's going to be hard for you, so you need to know you're up to it."

"I don't know, Jem. I mean... it's been a month! I should at least be able to... ugh..."

Kayn felt like such a child for crying _again_, but if he had anyone who understood, it was Jem, who immediately held onto him while he attempted to stop the tears. Some people said he was being stupid now - nobody expected him to have gotten over the death of his grandfather, but they thought he would have at least returned to his smiley self, even if it was just a front. But he hadn't. He couldn't. To Kayn, it didn't matter whether his grandfather was ninety-three or not, whether he should have been 'expecting it' - losing grandpa Tea was still like becoming orphaned - which he essentially already was. His father had raised him in his grandparent's home, after their daughter, Kayn's mother, abandoned him at birth - but when he was 7, his dad got into the wrong situation in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person. A person who still hadn't been brought to justice for what he did.

And so, Kayn was raised by his grandparents, gran and grandpa Tea. His gran had left them when he was 17, in her sleep one night. Kayn had never seen Tea cry before that. Even when his father was killed, Tea comforted Kayn but never shed a tear himself - although, as Kayn had grown up, he'd realised that Tea had most definitely cried for his father, but had not once allowed Kayn to see. Tea had too much pride to cry in front of Kayn.

Well, before gran died.

After gran died, he needed to be there for Tea just as Tea had been there for him, and they recovered from the loss together, though Kayn didn't think Tea had ever truly recovered. How could he have ever recovered properly? He had known his gran since he was young, it would be impossible to recover from that loss.

It was two years before Kayn thought Tea had recovered enough for him to tell him something he'd wanted to confess for a very long time. He never forgot how worried he was, thinking Tea would disown him or something - the old generation and all that, he thought he'd be homophobic. Well, he wasn't. In fact, when Kayn told him, Tea just stared at him for a while.

"What?" Kayn had asked, "Are you not... aren't you going to say anything?"

Tea had stood right up and wrapped his arms around his grandson, before saying something a few minutes later that surprised Kayn a great deal.

"I raised you, Kayn. It's been obvious since you were about 10 that you weren't going to be bringing any girlfriends home... I'm surprised you waited until you were this old to tell me."

"Nineteen isn't old, grandad!"

"You know what I mean," he laughed, "You could have told me any time."

Kayn knew that. He'd always known that. What he didn't know was that his grandfather would react so well.

"You're not mad or anything?"

"Kayn!" his grandfather exclaimed, taken aback by the question, "Of course not! Kayn, your happiness is the most important thing in the world to me. You're my grandson, I'll love you no matter what."

Then there was the memory that had been born one night over Kayn's homemade lasagne, as his grandfather sat in his armchair watching afternoon television, Kayn splayed out across the sofa finishing his.

"This is fantastic, Kayn," he had told him, before asking, "How was college today?"

"It was... yeah, it was good...", Kayn started, adding, "There's this guy on my Law course, actually... and... well, he's really nice. I only got to know him a couple of weeks ago, but he's really nice. Jeremy, his name is. Well, we all call him Jem, but his name's Jeremy."

"Jem," Tea repeated, "It's a nice name, that. Better than Jezza or Jez or whatever it is that they shorten Jeremy to, nowadays... was he named after Jem Finch from To Kill A Mockingbird?"

"Yeah," Kayn nodded, "It's his mum's favourite book. I like that book, too, and he does."

"You know, that book came out in 1960, and it's still a classic. 1960... I'd have been forty-two when that was published! Forty-two!" he declared, shuddering, "Ugh, no, it's making me feel old..."

"Grandad, you're 90!"

"And 21 at heart, Kayn! I can still run rings around you!" he laughed, "Anyway, this Jem - if you got to know him a couple of weeks ago, how come you never mentioned him?"

There was a moment of silence as his grandfather figured him out, smiling.

"I knew it," he chuckled to himself, "You _like_ Jem, then."

Kayn nodded, nervously.

"And is Jem... well, is he... you know, one of your lot?"

Kayn couldn't help but laugh at the phrase his grandfather had used. 'One of your lot'... grandpa Tea had accepted everything so comfortably, but still found it awkward addressing just what Kayn was. He'd never actually heard his grandpa describe him as 'gay', or any degrading synonym for the word. The best one his grandfather had used to that point was decidedly 'because you're... you know, a batsman for the other team'.

"He must be," Kayn started, meekly, "Because he, uhm... he asked me out."

"Well, that's good then, isn't it?"

"I don't know because I've never been out with anyone in that way before! How are you meant to act?"

"I've no idea, Kayn, because _in my day_, relationships were very different. For one thing, I never took a girl for chips, it was always to a restaurant or a dance hall. Anyway, Kayn, you shouldn't need to act at all - you're a fantastic kid, you should just be yourself. Have you been yourself up to now?"

Kayn nodded once again.

"And Jem clearly likes you for being you, so you just be yourself. Be Kayn Laurie, because Kayn Laurie is a brilliant person."

Kayn smiled to himself, silence falling upon the room but for the quiet background noise of the television in the background - a few seconds later, his grandfather added something else, grinning:

"Yes. Kayn Laurie is a brilliant person raised by a wonderful, handsome and most definitely clever grandad who would really appreciate it if the brilliant Kayn Laurie would make him a cup of tea."

**-ooooo-**

The house was so empty. So empty and so quiet and so strange.

It didn't feel right, as though the house itself hadn't gotten used to the absence of another one of it's occupants just yet. He and Jem were there, a month on from Tea's death, sorting out his belongings, yet it still felt like Tea would walk in any minute now...

Nothing had been touched since the day that Kayn had lost the most important man in his life. There was an empty mug on the fireplace, a half-finished puzzle book on the coffee table... Tea's slippers were still placed messily by his favourite arm chair. It was a sad scene, but somehow so comfortable, somehow so cosy.

"You know," Jem asked, sounding almost surprised, "I just realised that I never asked you why you called your grandad 'Tea'..."

Kayn couldn't help smiling as he told Jem memories of a time when he still had not only his grandfather, but his grandmother and his dad, too. "Well, grandpa loved tea. He'd have at least seven mugs of tea every day, and gran and dad used to make tea for him a lot, but instead of saying 'do you want a cup of tea?', they'd just say 'tea?'! Because grandpa always answered to 'tea' with 'yes, please', I assumed that it was his name and it just sorta... stuck, I guess. I was only two, but I've never called him by any other name since."

"So, you just always called him Tea?" Jem laughed, looking at the photographs on the walls around the room, as well as the frames stood on windowsills and fireplaces.

"Yeah. I think he preferred it to grandpa or grandad or anything. In the end, gran called him Tea, too!"

"Is this your gran?" Jem asked, pointing to a photograph on the coffee table.

"Yeah, that's her." Kayn replied, going on to point out the other people on the photo, "This is my 4th birthday! That's gran, that's Tea, that's me as a kid and that's my dad."

Jem said nothing as he saw the smile drop from Kayn's face... everyone on that photo, everyone apart from him, had passed away. He was the one remaining member of his family.

You see, his grandfather was an only child and his grandmother had three siblings who had all passed away before her. They only had one child together, Kayn's mother, who abandoned him when he was a baby, leaving his father to raise him.

Tea and gran felt it was their fault. They thought it was their fault that his mother had left him. They tried to get her back, but there was no trace of her. It turned out a few years later that she'd become a drug addict.

But gran and Tea liked his father. They knew that all he wanted was to make Kayn happy. That's why they asked him to move in. The first seven years of his life were the best you could imagine - Kayn didn't have a mother, but his father and his grandparents showered him with all the love in the world. If life had continued like that, he could not imagine ever having reason to be unhappy. But it didn't continue like that, because of one man, one man that they had never found, that killed his father. He had never met his father, he had nothing against him, but his dad was just there... so he killed him.

And Kayn would find that man. Kayn was determined that he would find the man that killed his dad, even fourteen years on.

But for now, Kayn was alone.

"Sorry..." Jem muttered, eventually, Kayn looking round quickly.

"About what?"

"Well, it must... it must bring back bad memories, I was stupid to bring it up..."

"No, Jem, don't be like that! They're good memories, it's just all the stuff that happened since then that makes it upsetting... look, we should... we should start sorting out grandad's things."

"Kayn..."

"They need sorting out because it's been a month and that's a really long ti-"

"Kayn."

"What?"

Jem knew Kayn was crying. Even if Kayn was hiding it, even if nobody else would have noticed, Jem could, so Kayn knew that there was no point trying to hide it once he'd seen it... so instead, he went over to Jem and just collapsed against him, tears soaking the boy's shirt.

It wasn't fair. Losing everyone close to him, having no family to speak of at the age of just 21... it was not fair.

"Kayn," Jem started eventually, "You need to at least try and calm yourself down before we do this... do you want a drink?"

Jem was already aware what the answer would be - Kayn had inherited so many traits from his grandfather.

"Tea, please.", he muttered, Jem just managing to hear it through Kayn's tears.

"Tea. Okay, then. I'll make you some tea."

**-ooooo-**

It was another forty minutes before Kayn held onto Jem's hand and led him back into the living room, this time determined to put his grandfather to rest properly by sorting out his belongings. Tea had always told Kayn that he would need to do this, occasionally reminding him in his later years that he would not be around forever, and when he wasn't, the house was Kayn's... and insisted that Kayn would have to sort out all of his possessions, not leaving a corner 'un-sorted'.

Kayn never understood why his grandfather had asked him to do that.

Jem knelt down next to Kayn as they went through the various belongings around the house. There was so many things Kayn had never seen, in 21 years of living in this same house with his grandad... it was almost astounding.

_Almost_. Kayn had been aware from an early age that Tea could keep a secret.

By the time they had finished looking through the kitchen and living room, even a stranger could have recited a lecture worth's of information about him, of a man who loved tea, could solve puzzles for England, kept every personal letter he had ever recieved. Yes, all of them. But personal letters... not the ones from the bank or the inland revenue or the tupperware company that they had been subscribed to since his wife was alive, but the personal ones. Letters from family, friends... friends that Kayn was not even aware his grandfather had.

Then there was that one letter.

A letter that, when the old photograph album it was inside was lifted up, fell into Kayn's lap. But this was not a letter that had been kept, sent to him by somebody. He had written this one.

'_To my Kayn, to be opened only when I'm not here to see it happen._'

Both Jem and Kayn just stared for a while, at the oddly crisp, white envelope and at the familiar handwriting stained into the oddly crisp, white envelope in black ink.

"You should open it." Jem muttered, "I mean... I mean, if you want to..."

"No, I do, just... he never told me about this..."

"Well, he wouldn't, would he? You're too curious. You'd read it."

That was something he could admit.

Kayn decided eventually that he needed to open the letter, to see what was inside, and the envelope felt somehow heavier, like something else had been kept in there... he pulled at the folded seal, opening the letter with an air of caution.

Every word he read was like an echo of his grandfather's voice in his mind.

_Kayn,  
I'm glad you found this - I wanted to keep it somewhere that you would find it, but not in a place where it would be lying around. You've always been an inquizzitive young man, and whilst I understand that you respect my privacy, I also know you better than anyone - if someone gives you a red button and tells you not to press it, you would press it right away._

_Anyway, you're reading this now. That big red button is your's to press to your heart's content._

_You've been a good boy, Kayn. I might say it was down to your dad, your gran and me (let's be honest - credit where credit is due, eh?), but I know that you have a hand in raising yourself just as much as we have. Very few people will have been through as much as you, especially at such a young age, and yet you have never failed to amaze me. You're always smiling, always happy, the first to volunteer as listener if someone you know is hurting... I admire you, Kayn. I may be your grandad, but it feels as though you are the one to be looked up to. I lost my daughter to drugs, a man who was like a son to me, my wife - you've been the only thing that has kept me going, and what a perfect thing you are._

_So, now for the interesting bit (because, let's face it, no matter who I am, I'm stll an old man, and an old man prattling on is possibly one of the most tedious things a person can face in life). I made so many promises to you when you were younger, some that you may not even remember, and I have always kept them, Kayn. Apart from one, you might think - 'I promise that, one day, you'll know the answer'. I always said that, didn't I? Whenever you asked me about my 'mummy and daddy', my childhood, why I moved to London... I always said that, one day, you would know the answer. I wanted you to be old enough. You're a man now, Kayn, and I think you can handle it._

_Now, you're 21, you're probably wondering why on Earth I've never just told you, come out and said it. I mean, you're a man now, as I have already said, but you've been a man for a long time - you've always been ahead of your years. Well, I didn't want to. I must warn you, Kayn, I didn't move here because I fancied a change, or because I'd spent years dreaming of the day that I would wake up to the sound of cows outside my window, or because London was so large that all I wanted was to live in a pokey village where everybody knew everybody. I moved here because I had to escape, because this village was my one true chance of a new beginning. Thank goodness I made the right decision._

_No, I need you to find this out for yourself. There's going to be moments in my past that are wonderful and astounding, and you'll wonder how I left it all behind for this quiet life of keeping myself very much to myself... there's going to be other moments where you'll wonder how I got myself through it. Don't worry, I wonder the same things. If you really don't think you can carry on finding out, stop. That's why I need you to do this - if I just sat you down and told you, you'd be inclined to listen. Inclined to listen to every last detail, however dark, however upsetting it got... this way, you can make the judgement of 'do I really want to know?' for yourself. _

_Another thing I must ask is that you stay open-minded. Don't just discover - understand. I spent so long trying to understand and I know that it's difficult, but I know you can if you really think about it. Everything I did, everything they did, it happened for a reason._

_This story won't have the happiest of endings. In fact, you'll discover the worst years of my life. How strange it is that those terrible years resulted in me discovering the people that have given me so much beautiful joy - my family. Especially you, Kayn._

_I want to thank you for being such a wonderful grandson, for teaching me so much about the world, even though I'm old. You couldn't have become a better person. I want nothing more than for you to be happy in life. Also, that Jem is a nice lad - be nice to him in return, you two make a good pair._

_Thank you, for everything you've brought to me.  
Grandad Tea_

_P.S: you know what the key is for - use it!_

Having read the letter, Kayn was in tears once again.

A month on from that night, that last night that he saw his grandfather, after saying 'goodnight' for the very last time, he had heard from him at last.

And he had finally been given the means to find out what his grandfather always refused to tell him.

Kayn looked inside the envelope again, tipping the little brass object into his palm. The key looked the same as it had the last time he had seen it, all those years ago...

"The bureau key..." Kayn observed, astounded that it had actually been given to him. He turned to Jem, wondering if the boy shared in his disbelief - but Jem wasn't concentrating on the key. Jem was crying, too.

"Jem!" Kayn laughed, wiping some of his own tears away with his sleeve before doing the same to him, "What are _you_ getting worked up for?"

"It's just_ that_," Jem stated, "That last bit, it's just... I didn't know your grandad even liked me, I thought he might have felt like I... I don't know, I just didn't think he liked me!"

"All grandad Tea ever wanted was for me to be happy," he explained, new tears still travelling down his cheeks, slower now, "And he saw how happy you made me. He said it to me a lot, that I should stick by you because you're the best thing that has happened to me."

"I am?"

Kayn nodded, his hand over one side of Jem's face while his thumb stroked his chin, "Definitely. And I have no idea how I would have coped with all this without you."

Kayn knew that Jem was all he had left, but he was thankful for the fact he had him at all.

**-ooooo-**

The key fit perfectly into the lock of his grandfather's old oak bureau, Kayn feeling pangs of anxiety as he pulled down the hinged wooden top... the last time he had gotten into this bureau, he was ten, and his grandfather had been much less than impressed...

_"Kayn!"_

_"Grandad, what's this stuff?"_

He had rushed over to Kayn and pulled him away, shutting the bureau and snatching the key from his hand, locking it once he had.

"Kayn, you don't go in there! I didn't say you could!"

"I'm... I'm sorry?"

"Well, you should know better than that, Kayn, shouldn't you?!"

"I don't know, I just... I found the key and thought maybe that's what it was for..."

"Well, you should have just given it to me!"

After a few seconds of silence, his grandfather's expression changed from one of anger to one of guilt, and he pulled Kayn to him, hugging him, before pulling away to look his grandson in the eyes.

"I'm sorry for shouting, Kayn, but you know not to do things like that."

"I know, I'm sorry, Tea..."

"Don't worry about it, eh?", he'd smiled, putting the key back into his pocket, "No harm done. Shall we go and watch some television, then?"

Kayn had nodded, but his confusion faded little over the course of the evening. That night, once his grandfather had fallen asleep in his armchair, watching the latest ever-so-predictable installment of Midsomer Murders, Kayn had turned to his grandmother and explained what had happened. He asked her what it was, what Tea was so determined to hide...

"It's his past," she told him, "I've never seen anything from that tin in the bureau, but I know that it's things from his past. But everyone has a past, Kayn."

Kayn may have been just a young boy, but, even at such an age, was still confused. How could she have known that her husband - who she had known for so many years, who she would trust with her life - had so many secrets, and yet seem as though she didn't mind?

"And you... you don't want to know what's in it?"

"Everyone has things that they want to keep to themselves," she explained, "I do and I'm sure you do. Shouldn't grandad be entitled to the same thing?"

Kayn couldn't exactly have disagreed - but it turned out that grandfather didn't want to keep these things to himself. He just wanted to reveal them in his own time, and only to Kayn, in whom he had so often recognised parts of his young self.

And he was revealing these things now, in the form of the cigar tin that was locked away in the bureau.

"What is it?" Jem asked, curious, as Kayn picked it up and checked it hadn't rusted after so much time untouched. But it became clear that it hadn't been left untouched. Tea quite obviously opened up this tin on a regular basis.

"It's my grandad's past, my gran used to say."

"What do you mean?"

Kayn sat down on the carpet, cross-legged, setting the box down in front of him, Jem crouching down near him moments later. He had waited so many years to discover from his grandfather what had really happened, but not like this... if it was a choice between knowing all Tea's secrets and having him back, even if it was only for a little while, he would pick the latter in a heartbeat.

But that wasn't a choice he had, so he opened the tin.

It was packed full, as full as it possibly could be without being unable to close, of letters, folded scraps of scribbled-on paper, black and white photographs and, strangely, a little brown leather book, that had quite boldly seen better days, all battered and worn.

Jem and Kayn exchanged a look of curiosity, before turning back to the tin. What was it that his grandfather wanted him to know, wanted him to discover? Whatever it was, it was in that tin...

That tin that contained the memories of the young life of his grandfather, Luke Triton.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

**CONGRATS if you made it this far! Please take a few moments to review and share this story - it is not time-consuming for you, but it would make my day!**

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**Next chapter is set in 1936 with Layton :)  
Bethany x**


	4. Chapter 3

**Grandfather's Clock**

_**1936**_

_"Mr Layton?", he'd heard, as his hand hovered over the switch of Luke's bedside lamp. He turned back to the young boy, who was looking to him curiously. _

_"Yes, Luke?"_

_The professor was somewhat taken aback by the question Luke asked next._

_"Are you my daddy now?"_

_Layton was silent._

_How could he have answered that? How could he have explained this unexpected, new situation to a nine-year-old boy who had lost his mother and had essentially been disowned by his father? The professor himself was barely able to understand what was happening, how he had become the guardian to the son of an old friend with no notice whatsoever - so it was asking so much of him to try and make sense of this for Luke._

_And then the professor realised something that made him feel so awfully guilty. This was the first time since that fateful conversation with Clark Triton that the professor had even remotely thought of how confusing, how difficult, this must have been for Luke himself. Luke was innocent. He was innocent and vulnerable and somewhat clueless._

_The professor settled himself momentarily back into the chair beside Luke's bed, placing a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder as he took a deep breath in to answer._

_"Luke, I... I'm not your new daddy. Your daddy is still your daddy."_

_"Where is my daddy, though?"_

_Layton closed his eyes for a second, before opening them once again and just staring anywhere but at the young boy - how could he look Luke in the eye like he had an answer for this after Luke had asked something so heartbreaking? No child should ever have to ask that question. No child at all. But Layton found it all the more awful when he considered the fact that it wasn't just 'where's my daddy'... it hadn't been long since Luke had lost his mother._

_"Luke," he began, attempting to speak in a way that may have reassured Luke at least a little, though he wasn't sure how effective this was, "I'm not your new daddy, but this is your new home. Your daddy is still your daddy, but you don't live with your daddy now."_

_"I live with you."_

_"Yes."_

_"But daddy still loves me."_

_"Your daddy will always love you, Luke."_

_Both sat in silence for a moment. Layton, this time, could not keep his eyes from Luke, somewhat analysing his expression. There was a sadness there, but something else with it... an understanding, perhaps?_

_Luke looked up at Layton, a strange, yet so genuine, smile on his face._

_"Is this a new adventure?"_

_Layton breathed a sigh of relief, a sigh laced with laughter. An understanding... Luke understood, in his own unique way, what was happening. And he had brought a side to it that Layton had not yet seen. This arrangement, this situation... it was no inconvenience to him. He needed to follow Luke's lead, see it as a new chapter - but more than that, he needed to remember that this was harder on Luke than on anyone else. If Luke could see this so positively, then Layton most certainly could. _

_"Yes, Luke," he smiled, the fact becoming clearer that he had been given the responsibility of caring for one amazing child, "This is a new adventure."_

_"I like adventures."_

_"So do I. I think we'll be just fine, you and I. Goodnight, Luke."_

_The professor smiled and turned to switch off the lamp, but was yet again interrupted in his actions by Luke's voice._

_"Mr Layton," he said, quietly and almost nervously, Layton giving him his attention once again, "Thank you for being nice to me."_

_"You don't need to thank me, Luke."_

_"But I want to say 'thank you' because mummy said I should always say 'thank you' if people are nice to me."_

_Layton smiled to himself - he could almost hear her voice in his mind, the voice of his old friend. He thought back on visits he'd made to their home when the family were happy, when Luke was happy. He remembered so well how she would correct Luke on his manners, or how he'd be told off if he misbehaved, though she was never angry with him for long. Just seconds later, she'd have taken Luke into her arms, giving him a cuddle and a single kiss on the tip of her son's nose._

_"It's alright, Luke," she'd assure him, "But you musn't do it again."_

_And Luke never would do it again. His mother's words stuck with him always, and he was never one to let her down._

It never ceased to amaze Hershel Layton just how much Luke and Flora had changed since he'd met the both of them. Of course, he had known Luke all his life - he had been a good friend to Luke's parents, and a rock for Luke's father after he'd lost his wife. It was more difficult, however, to support Luke's father when he had started to neglect his infant son... maybe Layton should have expected this. Maybe he should have realised that Luke was a special child - too special for Clark Triton to deal with after such a tragic event. Well, 'special' was Layton's word for it - Clark seemed to prefer 'mad'. Mad and ill. He didn't want rid of Luke, but he did not want to continue caring for him, leaving him only to the maids and his governess.

The next time Layton visited, he saw how Luke was being treated, and expressed his concern to Clark himself... he asked Clark about the bruises on Luke's arms, about the crimson and sometimes purple marks on his legs. And that's when Clark handed over the care of his nine-year-old son to an old friend.

Layton didn't mind. Of course, he was inexperienced as a father, so he attempted to make sure that Luke didn't see him as his 'new father' - he didn't want to disappoint him. He didn't realise that there was no danger of him disappointing Luke, however... from the moment Layton took on the role as Luke's guardian, he restored the boy's faith in 'grown-ups'. He didn't know that every time he read Luke a bedtime story - everytime he took him to the park and bought him an ice-cream, every time he comforted Luke when he thought the wardrobe monsters were coming to get him - he was becoming Luke's father anyway. More of a father than his real father ever was.

"Professor?", a voice interrupted, as he sat, thinking, stirring his tea unnecassarily, "Are you alright?"

He looked up, still a bit dazed, but smiling quickly. "Oh, I'm... yes, I'm quite alright, Emmy."

"You're looking a little... out of it?", she smiled, curious. She pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table, opposite the professor. The professor took a sip of his tea and looked to her, preparing to speak.

"Do you think... do you think I've done alright?"

"Alright?", she echoed, a little confused, "What do you mean?"

"Alright.", he repeated, as though the word itself made for an in-depth explaination, "As a father to Luke and Flora."

Emmy didn't need to think about that - her opinion was obvious and she'd have thought the professor would have known it very well - but she took a moment's silence to place her hand on that of her employer's.

"You've been nothing but loving and supportive to the both of them.", she stated. Her declaration had been made with such conviction in hope that the professor would be assured of this at last. "They couldn't have asked for a better guardian."

"But I wonder sometimes," he admitted, "Have I treated them in the wrong way? I was so afraid to be given the responsibility of raising a child - and Luke was such a special child - I just did whatever I could to not be seen as his father. I was terrified, Emmy, I was twenty-nine years old and I wasn't ready. I thought 'well, if I have to be his guardian, I'll make sure he knows that that's all I am to him'. I didn't want to be a father to a child of my own, let alone the nine-year-old boy of a friend."

The professor could remember those feelings, even nine years on. They were so clear in his mind. He was scared, petrified, and every time Luke looked at him for the first few weeks of him living in London, all the professor could think was 'don't mess this up, this kid is relying on you, you _cannot_ mess this up'. He didn't like that feeling - be relied on by someone so vulnerable. It put so much pressure on him. He felt like, whatever he did, he would never be a good enough guardian to Luke. Luke deserved far better than a clueless man who had never shown any interest in being a father. He must have thought of being a father once in his twenty-nine years, and that was when he was so in love with Claire that all he could imagine was being father to their children. Children they never had. Children he wouldn't have wanted if it wasn't for her.

"I wouldn't at all call that 'treating them the wrong way'. You love Luke, don't you? Like your own son? Those were all fears that stopped soon enough. And Flora... well, you weren't the same with her. With Flora, there was never fear. You'd been guardian to Luke for so long that it seemed to come naturally to you the second time round, especially with her only meeting you when she was fifteen. Luke was younger when he fell into your care, that was always going to be intimidating."

Layton was more than grateful for Emmy's words. She seemed to have a knack for knowing just what to say. This was both a good and a bad thing because it led people to wonder whether or not she was telling the truth or just telling them what they wanted to hear. This was never an issue between Emmy and the professor, however - he knew when she was being honest. And she was always honest with him, anyway.

About most things. Things were never lied about - but certain things were just left unsaid. There were things that Emmy couldn't, or just wouldn't, share with him.

"What's brought this on?", she asked him, her hand clutching his across the table a little tighter. The professor looked to her and sighed, rubbing his eye in an attempt to remove the invisible fatigue that he had accumulated during the day.

"I've just been... thinking. About Luke going away to university. And Flora's working now and she spends less and less time here, I have no idea where she even goes but I don't want to ask, it's... it's just made me realise, they're not children anymore, by any means. If I've made a mess of being their guardian, I've missed my oppurtunity to put that right."

"Hershel...", Emmy muttered, the professor finding his attention sparked more by the use of his first name.

She never called him by his first name, always 'Professor', just as Luke and Flora did - just as everyone did, he supposed. The only people who didn't were his employers and his enemies, who called him by his surname. His own first name was something which rarely fell upon his ears.

'_Layton_' was cold, '_Professor_'was respectful yet somewhat affectionate. '_Hershel_' was personal... the last person to call him 'Hershel' often was Claire.

When Emmy used his name, it was as though she was stepping out of her role as his assistant, and truly taking her place as his closest friend and _confidante_. She was there, she was listening. She cared.

"They know I'm proud of them," he explained, "But have I loved them enough?"

"You've given them all the love in the world."

"Then why do I feel like I've failed them?"

"Because you're a wonderful, caring guardian but you also happen to be your own worst critic, Hershel."

In the silent moments that followed, he thought over what had been said. It wasn't that. He knew so very deep down that it certainly was not just a case of low self-esteem or any other hormonal nonsense along the same lines... he had to do right by Luke and Flora. He couldn't correct his past, but he wanted to do something better with his future, and it became clear later on that Luke was his oppurtunity to be a good man.

He could recall times when Luke, Flora and, on several occasions, Emmy had asked about his past, and each time, he would tell them that the past did not matter. This was the present. _They_ were his present. And, of course, the past still scarred him, still left marks that would never fade - but these were marks that he had hidden because these marks were that he had inflicted upon himself. It was his fault.

But Luke and Flora were not children now, they were adults. They had lives of their own, and Layton didn't know how much longer Emmy would be near him, making him feel almost human again. She didn't know that she was doing this, and even if she did, would not know why, but that wasn't the point - Emmy was always there to make the professor feel better, a friend, these days, rather than an employee. She didn't ask questions, she didn't pester to know what was wrong... she just wanted to make him feel better about whatever it was that was bothering him. He was grateful to her for that.

"You're calling me Hershel.", he observed the obvious fact, smiling. Emmy smiled back at him.

"Well," she started, retracting her hand and placing it on her lap, "After five years, I'd have thought we'd have been on first name terms, _Professor_."

"After five years of putting up with being my assistant - and I know it can't be an easy job, Flora has assured me that I'm a difficult man - you can call me whatever on Earth you like, Emmy!" he laughed, "But you've always hated 'Hershel'!"

"Hated?", she grinned, "I've never hated it, I just can't take it seriously. It sounds like a species of crustacean."

Amusement around Hershel Layton's name was not something exclusive to Emmy - in fact, it was for the same reason that Luke and Flora had called him 'Professor'.

_"You know, Luke, you don't have to call me Mr Layton," he had informed the boy after he had lived with him for around a month, "It's a bit too formal for my liking."_

_"What should I call you?"_

_The professor looked to Luke, who was sat, looking up at him, his legs crossed on the floor as he added another small wooden brick to the little structure he was building with play blocks._

_"Well, you could call me by my first name, since I call you 'Luke'. My first name is Hershel."_

_Luke stopped and looked down at the bricks, inspecting his work as though it was fine art, a million miles away from its reality of being a little castle built by a nine-year-old boy. "That's a silly name."_

_Layton couldn't help but chuckle... if there was one thing that was consistent about children, it was that they didn't keep opinions to themselves._

_"What else can I call you?"_

_"Well, what would you like to call me?"_

_Luke thought back to the day a couple of weeks ago when he had needed to spend the day in Layton's workplace, as he was suddenly left without anybody to look after Luke during his unexpected work call-in. _

_"At your work, everybody kept calling you 'the professor'. That's okay."_

_"Professor? You... want to call me 'professor'?"_

_"Yes," Luke answered, bluntly, "It's much better than Hershel."_

Layton smiled at the fond memory as he continued his battle of names with Emmy.

"Well, what about 'Altava'?"

"_What_ about 'Altava'?", she enquired, eyes narrowed.

"It reminds me of caves."

"Well, I don't know where you got the comparison," she laughed, "But it doesn't matter since nobody calls me 'Altava' anyway!

"I could call you 'Altava'."

Emmy seemed to look almost offended, and shook her head. "I'd much rather you didn't... and if you did, I'm sure I could come up with something equally as irritating. After all, you said I can call you whatever I like!"

"I think I'll regret saying that."

"Well, you will if you start calling me 'Altava'... Emmy is fine."

"I could call you by your full name. Isn't Emmy short for Emmeline? Emmeline Altava?"

"Yes," she smirked, somewhat evilly, "Emmeline - meaning 'little rival', so you may perhaps want to stop yourself from crossing me."

"If I haven't crossed you in all these years, I doubt I ever will. And I wouldn't want to, anyway." Suddenly the moment was more tender, quiet again, as the professor made the move to put his hand on Emmy's this time, "Thank you, Emmy."

"For what?"

"For just... I don't know, helping me. Not just now, all the time."

Emmy laughed at this version of the professor, sweet and sincere, but so very strange, "You're quite welcome, professor. I'm your assistant, it's my job to help you."

"You're my _friend_," he assured her, "Not just an assistant. My Emmeline Altava!"

Emmy shuddered at the dreaded use of her full name, standing up from the table as she caught sight of the time from the professor's watch.

"Don't worry about it, glad to help. I didn't do much, anyway. Uhm, professor... is it okay if I leave? It's just... well, I've got to see someone."

"Well, actually Emmy, I was going to tell you about a new case I've been asked to investigate."

"Oh.", she muttered, going to sit back down, looking almost uneasy.

"Is it a family engagement?"

"No, it's... well, business."

The professor was quiet and thoughtful for a minute, wondering who on Earth she could be meeting for a business appointment. Yes, it was nothing really to do with him, but she was still his employee - he was entitled to wonder over it. However, he decided not to press the issue, as he'd learned over the years that it was futile to pander to her usual honesty if she was keeping something from him. It only served to push her away when he did.

"Alright. Well, I need you here at nine tomorrow, then - we have plenty to do."

"So, I can leave?"

"Yes, alright."

"Thank you, professor."

Emmy was strangely quick to leave the room, the professor hearing the front door being unlocked and opened, a draught filing through the kitchen seconds later - but there was no sound of the door closing. Instead, he heard Emmy speak up again.

"Professor, I'm... well, I'm... I'm sorry."

"Sorry?", he called back, "What for?"

There was another few moments of silence before Emmy responded.

"For things I've... well, just for things I've done. You've been so kind to me over the years."

"It isn't just me, we've been kind to each other," he told her, "You're my closest friend, Emmy."

And with that, the door closed behind her.

**-ooooo-**

It was a quiet evening. Flora reading a book, the professor completing one of his many puzzles, Luke listening intently to the programme on the radio. The thing was, this was how they spent most evenings, but it felt different this time. Tonight felt strange.

It had been three days since he had gotten into university. The professor was proud of him, but he also seemed different - somehow hurt. Luke still hadn't let go of his suspicions that the professor was a friend of the man who's murder case was being brought up after new evidence had come to light, but had decided that to ask was useless. Emmy was right - he was too proud. The professor would not admit to being upset over something that happened so long ago... he wouldn't even show his feelings regarding Claire. He didn't want Luke and Flora to see him that way.

As for Flora herself, she had been distant. Since their argument three days ago - which Luke hadn't actually registered as an argument, believing that everything would be fine the next day, as it always was with them - she had spoke to him as little as humanely possible. She spent the majority of her day with a book, reading in the living room, and when Luke spoke to her, she said no more than a sentence in response. Flora was, as the professor was, proud. Luke's confrontation had bothered her, even though Luke had confronted her with reasonable evidence to be suspicious.

Luke did, in all honesty, regret taking up the issue with her, but he would not apologise. He had confronted her because he knew something was strange, something was going on - and Flora had been crying when she got home that day! Why on Earth wouldn't he ask?! Seeing Flora cry hurt him so badly, whether it was over the ending of a book she was reading or whether she had fallen down and hurt herself... he was always the one to make her feel better. Whatever it was that had upset her three days ago, though, she didn't want him to make her feel better. And she still didn't now. That was why she had not spoken to Luke in the same way since.

But he couldn't just accept that. He couldn't understand why she was acting like this, but he didn't want it to go on. He loved Flora, as much as it annoyed him to admit. He didn't like being away from her, let alone upsetting her. He wondered how Flora would be if she actually knew about his feelings towards her, how she would react. If she'd react anything like this, he thought, he'd make sure she never found out.

He looked over at her again, her eyes staring down into her book. He wondered, if he watched her for long enough, would she perhaps look up at him like she had in the past - like in moments where he'd be watching her, and she, unknowingly, looked up at him, blushing a beautifully bright shade of pink and turning away in a fraction of a second as their eyes made contact. He loved those moments because Flora's embarrrassment seemed like a teasing sign that, maybe, she felt the same way about him as he felt about her. Wishful thinking, he supposed. In the past few months, it had become more than obvious that Flora probably did not return his affections - or not in that way at least.

"Professor," Luke asked, eventually, "Emmy said you've been asked to investigate an inheritance dispute in the country."

"Yes," he told him, nodding as he looked up from his newspaper, "I was going to talk to you about it tomorrow since Emmy was busy this afternoon."

"I can't go with you." Flora told him, immediately. Luke raised an eyebrow, wondering why she had felt the need to declare it so quickly, with a tone that sounded suspiciously irritated. The professor looked at her understandingly, however, without so much as batting an eyelid.

"No, I know you'll be working. That's alright, Flora."

"You came with us last time."

"That was when I only worked twice a week, Luke.", she told him, sternly, still clearly irritated with him. "I asked for the time off because I'd only have missed one day. I can't just be flitting in and out."

"You flit in and out of the house as you please, why would work be any different?", he asked her, a cold look about him. Flora simply closed her book and got to her feet.

"I'm going to bed."

"Alright," the professor started, "Goodnight, Flora."

"Goodnight, Professor." As Flora turned from the door, looking in Luke's direction, her expression switched to one of annoyance once again, "Goodnight, Luke."

"Mm."

There was vague quiet in the room as Flora left, her footsteps on the staircase being the only sound for a while, but the professor turned to Luke as soon as he heard Flora's bedroom door shut loudly.

"Luke."

Layton almost spat the word, cold and harsh, Luke looking up right away. When he did, the professor's face gave his feelings at that moment away immediately.

"Professor, _please_ don't tell me something like 'you're a gentleman, you shouldn't be speaking to a lady that way' or anything! She's been cold to me like that for past two days!", Luke insisted, in response to words the professor had left unsaid, "She started this!"

The professor, at that moment, looked astounded by what he was hearing - even Luke had noticed the childish tone of his last claim.

"_She started it_?! Luke, you're both eighteen! Never mind who started it, I expect one of you to finish it, and I expect that to happen soon!"

"What am I meant to do, Professor?! Really? What the hell can I do?!"

"Well, for a start, you can watch your tone and stop talking to me like that, because I don't appreciate that one bit," he told him, more than seriously, "And secondly, you can stop acting like a foolish little boy and just be the bigger man."

Luke fully resented the accusation that he was behaving like a 'foolish little boy', and whilst he was instantly regretful for the way he'd spoken to the professor a moment ago, he wasn't about to be chastised for his behaviour towards Flora. This was nothing of his doing - it was Flora that had taken Luke for an idiot, and then acted like one herself. His only wrong-doing was being concerned for the girl he quite obviously, he thought, loved, after she had come home with telltale signs of having spent the last hour crying for some reason that she had kept to herself. And if that was a wrong-doing, he had done wrong so many times before - yet, those times, Flora had been more far grateful than angered, like she had been on this occasion.

"Professor, I'm not going to be the bigger man when she's acting like I'm nothing but a-"

"Now, look here, Luke," he interrupted, now quite clearly irritated to a point where he just could not deal with the bother of it all for a second longer, "I don't know what it is that has you and Flora acting this way, but whatever it is, it can't be worth treating each other like you are nothing to one another. Flora has become distant recently, I'll admit, and I'm sure Emmy has noticed the same, but Luke... can't you see things from her point of view? Just for one moment?"

"What does it matter?" he asked, "She's still acting like I'm some school bully that she's starting to shake off." Well, he thought to himself that Flora was the one acting like the school bully.

"Well, from where I'm standing, she's acting like a girl whose closest friend is going to his dream university in pursuit of his dream career, while she sits at a machine in a factory sewing under-garments for minimum wage."

Luke wasn't really sure how to respond. He knew deep down that it was right but it didn't make the way she'd been acting any less annoying. So, the professor continued to speak whilst Luke thought over his point.

"Luke, you know that Flora wanted to go to university. For a start, she wanted to go to school! It was the fact there was no schools in St Mystere that have held her back - can you imagine the humiliation she felt when she was turned away? And she's a bright girl, you know that. She taught herself to read."

"Yes, but-"

"Luke, working is Flora's way of feeling like she has a purpose for her days, like she's doing something useful and worth her time. And I know she doesn't have to work, of course she doesn't, I don't need her to bring income into the house. But this way, she feels like she's making use of herself. Would you begrudge her that? Really? You're in a far better position than her, she's making what she can from what she has."

"But she wants to be a detective, right? Like you, like Emmy? So, why not join us?"

"Because it's not a job, is it? It's what she's been doing since she was fifteen. I'm not her boss, I'm barely even Emmy's boss... look, Luke. Try to understand her way of thinking. She's her own person taking charge of her own life."

Luke thought about it. Alright, so what the professor was saying bore no impact on his opinion of Flora keeping things from him, but maybe questioning her over not joining them on a case was a step too far. Besides, he despised arguing with Flora. He loathed that look she gave him when she was angry with him. Then again, she probably hated the 'injured puppy' look he sported when she was irritated with him.

"I should go up and apologise?"

"It wouldn't go amiss, Luke."

"You're right."

Luke got to his feet, though the professor held up his hand in discouragement.

"I'd leave her for a while, though," he advised, "She always sees things differently when she's had time to calm down."

Luke nodded, sitting back down. By now, the programme on the radio had finished, and he was feeling a little tired. He was only keeping himself awake by the knowledge that he needed to apologise to Flora and get this argument sorted out.

"_Good evening,_"the radio spoke out in the background, "_This is London Calling. Here is the news at 10pm. Our world headline tonight - bank managers from America's Wall Street have stated that the economy is now in a state of recovery, and have reported a growth of 2.3% for the last quarter. This is the first growth in the American economy since the country entered a state of recession five years ago, which the people of the nation have suffered with since_."

Luke was an educated young man, but even he found the news to be tedious at times - how many people listening would even know what a 'growth of 2.3% for the last quarter' meant?

"Ah, good."

Well, the professor did, clearly...

"_In our local headlines, Metropolitan police are satisfied that they have uncovered enough evidence to charge London newagent Jonothan Vere with the murde_-"

Luke immediately reached for the radio and turned it off, the professor reacting quickly.

"Luke, turn it back on a moment!"

"You don't want to listen to that story, do you?!"

"Luke!"

He did as he was told, the professor listening intently.

"_-closed due to lack of evidence, before being re-opened on Monday. Of this new development, Bridgely's oldest son Nathaniel Bridgely said: 'For my mother, myself, my brothers Robin and Frederick, my sister Nancy and for my late father himself, this news is welcome. At last, we have justice for a man who was so cruelly taken from his family, and we thank the police for their hand in bringing closure to a dark period in our lives, which has stolen ten of our years.' Vere is expected to stand trial for the murder in coming months_."

The professor was in a way that Luke had never seen him before... white, blank, signs of shakiness in his hands. He knew that man. He must have known him.

"Are you alright, Professor?"

Layton nodded, slouching slightly back into his armchair. "Yes, Luke, I'm... I'm fine. It's all just very strange, isn't it?"

Luke said nothing for a while, but didn't look from the professor... he hadn't yet witnessed this side of his guardian. Something was wrong with him, something had him looking so affected by all of this. Why wouldn't he tell Luke? And more so, why hadn't he ever told Emmy?

In any case, the professor looked like he needed a moment alone, and Luke knew to give him that moment.

"I'm going to go and talk to Flora."

"Wh-? Oh, Flora, yes, of course..."

"Are you alright, Professor?", he asked for a second time. And for the second time, he nodded.

"I'm quite alright, Luke, yes."

"Okay, well... I'll go to bed once I've spoken to her. Goodnight, Professor."

"Yes, goodnight, Luke."

Luke turned off the radio and left the living room, closing the door behind him. He was admittedely worried for the professor. However, he closed his eyes for a moment and attempted to put it to the back of his mind - Hershel Layton was not a man who appreciated being worried about. Besides, Luke needed to focus on the task in hand, and the task in hand was getting Flora to at least speak to him civilly again.

He rehearsed his approach in his mind as he walked upstairs, unsure of how she'd react. He was confused as to how she was even this annoyed with him. Whilst it was true that Flora and Luke had their routine ups and downs, it was rare that Flora became genuinely angry with him... and even on those occasions, she'd never stopped speaking with him before. They usually sorted it out within the hour, but this time, it seemed that he had really upset her.

He stopped for a moment outside her bedroom, his hand in a fist, ready to knock on the white wood... the landing light was turned off, so he could see the yellow glow escaping from underneath the door. Flora was still awake.

_'Just say you're sorry, even if you're not_,' he thought, '_you can't afford to lose Flora now.'_

Raising his fist, he knocked out the introduction to 'Puttin' On The Ritz' - a song that Flora always danced to when it was on the radio - almost a little agressively, but he put that down to his nerves.

"Come in?"

Flora sounded anxious, surprised. Well, nobody really knocked on her bedroom door, late at night, when she was about to sleep.

Luke opened the door with an air of cautiousness, peering round before walking in...

"Can I come in?", he asked, hopefully. Flora was sat up in bed with the same book, and looked up at him, blankly.

"That's what I just said, isn't it?"

"That was before you knew it was me."

"I knew it was you. The professor doesn't knock a little song on the door."

"So, can I c-"

"Yes, Luke, come in."

Luke walked in and shuffled from foot to foot, wondering whether or not it would be alright with her if he was to sit down on her bed.

"Sit down, Luke? You make me nervous when you stand up and look down at me like that."

So, that was a yes, then. He sat down, looked at her, smiling, still unsure of what to say - then he looked around her bedroom. He hardly ever went in there, even though she sometimes went in his. Strangely, it hadn't changed much in the three years since she'd moved in... it still looked like the empty guest room it had been for the first few years that Luke had lived there. Flora had added very little to the room. There was a photo frame on her bedside table, containing a photograph of herself when she was younger with her mother and father, as well as a couple of people he hadn't seen before. There was her hairbrush and some bands and ribbons on the mirror-dresser in the corner, and a little letter writing set, though Flora never wrote letters really. There was also a box of books beside the dresser, most of which Flora had already read. It was a tidy bedroom, far tidier than his.

Flora was still watching him intently, waiting for him to say something.

"Luke, I... I'm kind of tired."

"Yeah, no, sorry," he started, nervously, "I want to apologise for... well, for everything that's happened this week, everything I've said. I didn't want to hurt you, I just... I wanted to know you were okay, and I suppose that my worry got the better of me and it seemed more like an interrogation."

Luke wasn't completely apologetic, but as the professor told him, he needed to see this from Flora's point of view and be the bigger man. Flora looked almost guilty upon hearing his apology, but nodded in agreement.

"I'm sorry for the way I've been with you this week," she told him, "I was upset, but I should have talked it through with you rather than snapping and ignoring you."

"It's alright. But are we done, now? I don't want to hurt you, Flora. Believe me, it's the last thing I want to do. I'm leaving in two months, and I'm already going to miss you so much it hurts..." Luke stopped speaking momentarily as Flora blushed a little, but carried on soon after, keen to make his point. "I don't want my last memories of 'the old times' to be that you and I couldn't say a good word to each other."

"No, I don't either... can we just forget that conversation we had on Monday?"

Luke liked that idea very much, even though he knew it would be impossible to forget the sight of Flora in such a state, refusing to tell him what was wrong. He liked the idea that they could be friends again in despite of what had happened.

"Yes. Of course.", he smiled, warmly, standing up from the bed, "I'll see you in the morning, Flora."

"Goodnight, Lukey."

'Lukey'... Luke allowed nobody but Flora to use that name. He didn't like it, thought it made him sound like a child, but when she actually said it, it was music to his ears.

And calling him 'Lukey' showed that it was alright between them. The argument had dissolved just as their arguments always did - except this time, he couldn't help but still worry for Flora.

And the professor.

And for Emmy, who had left, it seemed, in a strange hurry that day.

Luke Triton was harbouring unusual concern for the three most important people in his life. And he didn't know how to solve it.

**-ooooo-**

'I'll see you in the morning' was what he had told Flora, but the predictions he made very rarely came to pass, and this was one of those days. Flora had gone to work before he had even gotten out of bed, citing to the professor that she was to meet a work friend for breakfast before their shift at the factory began.

When Luke finally got himself downstairs, the professor and Emmy were already waiting for him, sat down at the kitchen table with tea, a plate full of slightly undercooked toast and marmalade in the centre.

"Good morning, Luke!", Emmy smiled, as he rubbed his eyes. He looked at the clock on the wall - eight o'clock. The professor and Emmy always had been early risers, but he had to admit he was surprised that Flora had appeared before half past seven.

"Morning.", he hummed, tired. The professor pushed a chair from under the table with his foot and Luke sat down, the professor pulling out some letters.

"Alright, shall we start on this case, then?"

Both Emmy and Luke nodded, leaning in with interest. However, as the professor began to speak about this latest inheritance dispute, Luke became slightly distracted, watching the professor intently. He looked different, he looked pale still, and Luke was worried. Emmy looked perfectly fine this morning, a smile on her face, reaching for a piece of toast and drinking her cup of tea, but the professor looked no different to how he had looked when Luke had left him the previous night - the only difference seemed to be that he looked more tired, as though he hadn't gotten a moment of sleep.

"...he wants us to find her, which I'm expecting will be the most difficult aspect of the case. I told him that the chances of there being a second will are slim to none, but he insists that his sister is up to something. Luke, are you listening to a word I'm saying?"

Both the professor and Emmy looked over his blank expression, as Luke focused his mind back to the case.

"Yes, I, uhm... yeah, sorry. So, uh... he thinks the sister made a fake will in his mother's name?"

Luke was guessing, completely guessing, what the professor had been talking about. Of course, this was a bad idea.

"No. He thinks his sister has stolen his father's changed will and replaced it with a copy of an old will. Luke, what's wrong?"

"Huh? Nothing, nothing, I'm fine!"

"Are you and Flora still not speaking?" Emmy asked, the professor shaking his head.

"No, Flora told me this morning that things between the two of you are fine. Are you sure you're alright?"

Luke smiled, widely but inauthentically. The professor was unconvinced, but nodded and continued speaking about the case. Around twenty minutes later, the professor had to take a phone call in his study, leaving Emmy and Luke alone.

"Are you really alright, Luke?", she asked, once again, "Because you can tell me. Is this about Flora?"

"I think it's the professor we should be concerned about. Emmy, I'm worried about him. Remember what we were talking about on Monday?"

"Remind me."

"We thought he might have known Corneil Bridgely."

"Oh, yes, of course!"

"Well," he started to explain, "Mr Vere was charged with the murder yesterday, and it was on the radio... you should have seen the professor's face. He knew him, Emmy, I'm sure of it."

"I don't understand this at all..." she admitted, "If he knew him, why is he keeping it from us?"

"I don't know."

"I did investigate further, though, after we thought they may have known each other."

Luke's interest was piqued - although, Emmy's independent 'investigations' didn't often make a good return of information.

"You did?"

"Well, I... I asked my mother."

_Of course she did._

"She said she remembered the case really well, and I found out something pretty interesting..."

"What?"

"Well, after the murder, it turned out that there was some especially incriminating details about him that left the case wide open, and that's why they never caught the killer. Turns out, Corneil Bridgely was a bit of a womaniser. He'd had six affairs, two at the same time. He had three illegitimate children, too. A son who'd be 13 now, a son who'd be 11 now and a daughter who'd be 18 now."

"My God..."

"I know."

"Surely the professor wouldn't have had a friend like that, though? I mean, not to stereotype or judge or anything, but I can't really see it."

"Well, I found out something else."

"What?"

"My mum used to be a cleaner at Gressenheller - she never told me it was Gressenheller, but I guess it wasn't all that important since she worked there before the professor, but still."

"What's that got to do with it, though?"

"Turns out, Bridgely had worked there. History department."

"Which would mean... he'd have spent time in the archeology department."

"Yes."

All these details were coming out, Luke felt he should be making notes.

"But, as I said," Emmy added, "This was before the professor worked there."

"But that's a link!"

"I suppose. But look, Luke... don't overthink this... it's all circumstantial."

"No, I... yeah, I won't..."

But this was all too coincidental. Luke wanted to look into this further.

"Sorry about that," the professor smiled, entering the kitchen again, "It was just the dean, asking about a student. So, shall we get back to the case?"

Luke nodded - but he was now investigating a case of his own.

_**-o-**_

**Two weeks since the last chapter... sorry! ;w; I seem to write less during the holidays than I do during the school term D:**

**Anyways, this is just an example of a reason why you should follow my twitter? Heh heh! My username is Oatniel, so please take a look. All updates and news and stuff will be posted there, but I intend to get a new chapter up each Thursday :)**

**Thank you! And please do comment, it would make my day!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Grandfather's Clock**

_**2011**_

Kayn didn't sleep as much as he used to, on account of just being unable to shut off his brain. He used to sleep easily for at least eight hours every night, yet whenever he and Jem watched a DVD, he still found himself leaning on him, drifting away into yet another sound sleep. He liked sleeping - he liked the warmth and security of his bed. Since he was a teenager, he had gotten himself into the habit of setting his alarm exactly twenty minutes before he needed to get up, just so he could lie and enjoy those lazy first minutes of the day.

He'd changed a lot recently.

Kayn placed the mugs down on the bedside table and got under the covers again, shuffling against Jem and closing his eyes. He wasn't going to sleep - he'd barely been able to sleep for two hours the night before, and it was morning now, anyway. Well, it was 4:30, and that was morning to him now.

That had been the first night for a month that he had spent the night at home. Having looked through his grandfather's belongings for so long the night before, it had gotten rather late, and Jem had called home to tell his mother that he would stay with Kayn for the night, though Kayn sort of hoped that 'for the night' would turn into 'for a while' - having Jem by him was comforting, whatever the time of day. His mum was understanding as she always was where Kayn's relationship with her son was concerned. She once told Kayn that Jem had been 'off the rails' for a while and that he had calmed him down, and she was grateful for that.

"Jem's a different person," she once told him when they were left alone together, "I've got my little boy back since he met you. He's better with you."

Kayn could only assume that this was why she'd let him stay with them for a month, and why she was so fine with the idea of Jem staying with him for the night.

But Kayn didn't feel he needed to be thanked. He felt that the most important thing was to thank Jem. Jem had been there for him when he'd needed him, especially since his grandfather had passed away.

He looked up at Jem as he nestled against him, realising the role reversal that had gone on recently. He was normally the one with Jem in his arms, the one who was the rock and the support - but he needed it to be the other way round now. And Jem was fine with that.

Kayn sighed and closed his eyes again, but felt a stirring underneath him as he did.

"Morning."

Jem rubbed his eyes and smiled sleepily as Kayn messed with bits of the boy's dyed-black hair, repeating the word back to him with an air of uncertainty, as though he wasn't sure whether or not it really was morning. He could never be sure where Kayn was concerned.

"I made you a cup of tea."

"It's half four... how come you were up so early?"

"I'm always up this early," Kayn explained, "But at your place, I don't feel comfortable going downstairs at the arsecrack of dawn to put the kettle on because I don't wanna wake your mum. I just thought I might as well make the most of the oppurtunity today since you sleep like a hibernating bear and I've been awake since one-thirty."

"Fair enough. Still though, I didn't realise you had problems sleeping. You never used to have problems sleeping."

Jem thought back on times when he'd called Kayn during the ad break of 'Coronation Street' and he'd been asked 'Jem, what are you calling me at this time for? I'm in bed!' - but then if he called him at 11am the next day, Kayn would whine that it was 'barely breakfast time'. His mum had taken to calling Kayn 'Sleeping Beauty' - a nickname which Jem found both amusing and accurate, much to his boyfriend's annoyance.

"Things have changed, though, haven't they? I looked on Google - doctors call it 'bereavement-induced insomnia'. I call it 'bloody irritating'."

"So, it's been going on since-"

"Yeah. I haven't really slept since the funeral.", he admitted, "I get about three hours a night, sometimes not even that. I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't have to be used to it," Jem told him, "What do you even do while you're awake all night?"

"I don't really do anything. I just hold onto you, I guess."

Jem tightened his hold on Kayn a little at that. No matter how many times Kayn thanked him for being there for him, he still felt like he wasn't really doing anything, he still felt like he was being pushed away, but in that moment, he'd seen a tiny beam of what he knew to be Kayn's usual self shining through, and that made him smile, even if it wasn't completely a smiling moment.

"I love you, Kayn." Jem told him, either to provide reassurance for Kayn or just because he felt it needed to be said. Kayn smiled faintly and traced the patterns of his blue and grey duvet with his finger.

"I know you do."

It wasn't much, but it was a response. He hadn't heard 'I love you' from Kayn for a long time, but his usual response was little more than a hum. At least, this time, he'd spoken.

"Do you want us to get up and start looking through the rest of those things?"

"No," Kayn told him, "Let's just stay here for a while. This is nice."

So they did.

_**-o-**_

The contents at the top part of the tin were fairly expected. A few photographs from his grandmother and grandfather's wedding, a painted handprint his mother had done when she was young, a picture Kayn had drawn in Nursery school of himself and his family (and, bizarrely, a purple and red cow wearing a top hat)... and these things were nice to look at and smile at the memories of his childhood that they conjured, but Kayn's curiosity had been getting the better of him. What was it that his grandfather was expecting him to find?

"Mum called while you were in the shower," Jem said eventually, "She was asking after you, making sure I was looking after you and all."

"That's nice of her."

"Well, she just... she cares about you, you know. She's seen how hard the last month has been on you, so she knew yesterday would be difficult."

"Yesterday was easier because you were with me. And I mean that, Jem, you need to know how grateful I am."

"Meh, I don't need thanking... being there for you is reward enough." Kayn turned to Jem, who was busy sifting through contents of the tin and passing them to him when he'd finished looking. He couldn't have asked for a better person to get him through this. "Hey, is this your gran and grandad, like, years ago?"

Jem held out the photo of the two teenagers, Kayn analysing the faces. He could recognise Tea right away, but he couldn't give any name to the girl he was stood with. She looked to be the same sort of age as him, but she was taller than him, and had long hair that had been untied and cascaded down over her dress. Tea had his arm around her, and she was angled towards him - they were both smiling. Really smiling.

"No, that's not my gran... I don't know who that is, pass it here a second..."

Kayn took hold of the photograph and took another close look - he definitely didn't recognise the girl, but she must have been really important to him. Tea wouldn't have kept the photograph otherwise.

"Wait, Kayn, just turn it over a second..."

"What?"

"Just turn it over."

Kayn flipped the photo and immediately realised why Jem had asked him to - there was writing on the back.

"I thought I'd seen something! Who's Flora?"

Kayn shook his head, running his hand over the words '_Flora's 18th, 1936_'. He didn't know because his grandfather had never told him.

"I have no idea. He must have known her pretty well, though..."

"Maybe she was his girlfriend?"

Kayn smiled at Jem's suggestion - as strange as it was, Kayn had never had the thought cross his mind that his grandfather could have been with anyone other than his gran. It seemed as though they were matched from the start, a couple since the beginning of time, but it really did look like this girl could have been his heart's keeper before his gran had taken up the role for herself.

"Keep looking through the tin," Kayn instructed, "There must be something else about her... he wouldn't have not told me about her without a reason, would he?"

_Not that I know who he lived with in London_, he thought, _or why he moved._

It turned out that his grandfather had quite a few pictures of himself with this girl, and with another slightly older, yet just as beautiful woman. Another figure who seemed to appear frequently within the photographs was a friendly man, Kayn decided, who looked to be in his mid-to-late thirties when they were taken - and this man was particularly recognisable due to the hat he was always wearing. A tall, top-hat, that would surely have looked ridiculous under normal circumstances - but even a boy like Kayn who was always conscientious where his clothing was concerned could admit that the hat fit this man like it was part of his body.

"All these photos are really interesting," Jem started after a while, "But... I don't understand. We're not getting much closer at all to finding out what your grandad wanted us to find out. We don't even know what it is that we're meant to be looking fo-"

"Ooh!" Kayn interrupted - he had found something. Something extremely useful. A newspaper article.

"What is it, Kayn?"

As the saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words. In this case, the 47 photographs they had were only worth this short article - but this was an article nonetheless. A clue to what they wanted to find out.

The photograph at the centre of the article was one that piqued his interest even more - all three of those newly familiar faces appeared alongside that of the man he was getting to know even after his death. The woman, the top-hatted man, the girl named Flora and, at the end, a bright-eyed boy in a flat cap - his grandfather. All four, together, smiling, for this article from _The Central London Chronicle_, on November 13th 1935... '_Archeologist Solves Yet Another Mystery'._

Kayn handed the article to Jem, who began to read it out loud, the reasons for his grandfather's love of television mystery dramas and Agatha Christie novels becoming increasingly clear. It seemed like something from a story.

_A professor of archeology from Central London has once again solved a mystery that had the area's detectives stumped._

_Professor Hershel Layton, 38, is in full-time employment as a lecturer at Gressenheller University, but works as an amateur detective in his spare time, and is often called on to solve minor crimes or disputes. However, his latest crime was much more than a simple dispute - Hershel Layton is the man responsible for solving the murder of local barman Graeme Taylor._

_Taylor was killed last November and the case has gone unsolved until now. Soon after the murder, it became clear that Taylor was a figure of importance in illegal dealings in and around London, leaving the case wide open as there was so many suspects who moved in the same criminal circles._

_Police were forced to close the case after no evidence, besides circumstantial evidence, was found to direct to a culprit, but closed cases just happen to be one of Layton's specialities - and he tackled the case within a week of begining his independent investigation. Taylor's brother Sylvester was charged with his murder on Thursday._

_However, Mr Layton is not one to take all the glory for himself._

_"I don't solve these cases entirely independently," he explains, "Without my assisstant, Emmy, and apprentices, Luke and Flora, I would not be able to solve them at all."_

_Emmy Altava, 27, has worked for the professor as an assisstant for the past five years, whilst his adopted children, Luke Triton and Flora Reinhold, both 17, hope to follow in his footsteps as detectives, and are learning quickly how by accompanying their guardian in his work. _

_"The professor always takes good care of us - sometimes too much!" Triton tells us, "The detective side of him is impressed by Flora and I, but the father side of him just wants us to be as careful as possible."_

_We wish the professor and his team the best of luck for the future - we're sure he'll be back in the headlines soon enough._

"So... he was adopted," Jem concluded, "And that Flora is sort of his sister, then?"

"Must have been. I don't understand, why did he never tell me he did this when he was younger? It seems so exciting and interesting... I bet he had so many stories to tell."

All the stories that his grandfather had told him - they were fairytales, they were fiction. Why did he have any need to raise Kayn on fairytales when stories of his own childhood were so astounding?

"This just... it makes no sense." Kayn admitted, lost for what was going on, "There must be something else in here that explains it."

There was.

_**-o-**_

_Flora Reinhold  
34 Eamon Place  
Westminster  
London  
SW1 4FR_

_Luke Triton  
Grey Cobble Inn  
West Bay  
Dorset  
PR3 7LT_

_28th June 1936_

_Flora,  
I am under no illusion that this letter will come as a surprise. Please believe me when I say that I am surprised to be writing it. I had hoped to leave and cut off my involvement in your life, and the professor's and Emmy's, without much fuss or guilt, but guilt weighs on me each and every day. _

_I hope not to upset you but I must be honest in the fact that you are the first thing to wake my mind at the break of morning - I can't forget that I left you when you needed me most. I can't forgive myself that you have to deal with something so harsh, so unexpected, and I am not there to stand up for you and tell them it will be okay. I wish so much that I could convince you of the same thing._

_I wish very much that I had not reacted so brashly. If only I had given you chance, maybe you'd have explained, perhaps I may have sympathised - but I was angry, Flora. I was angrier than you know because I felt that, in a single moment, each and every notch on our relationship was broken. You had been so secretive. You had told me nothing and then shattered my world in a mere second. It crossed my mind far more than once that I may have prevented what had happened if I'd only have known. Am I to blame for this? Have you had your world turned upside down because of me? Because I wasn't good enough? _

_I know I should have told you I was leaving, but I felt awful even knowing it myself. You really are the most important thing in the world to me and I know that you'll do the best thing for you and the baby. I know I should be there, but I really cannot stay - but I would, and will, continue to love you. I'm sorry._

_Give the professor and Emmy my love. I would have written to them both, but it was only with you that I had left things unsaid._

_I know you'll want to write back, but I'll be at a different address by then. I just didn't want to leave things so suddenly and cut you off like it was nothing - you mean more to me than anything else on this earth and I wanted you to know that hasn't changed. No matter what, you'll always be the first girl I loved._

_All my love,  
Luke._

Jem lowered the letter and stared at Kayn once he'd finished reading it out. "I don't understand."

There seemed to be too much to understand here. For one thing, this letter was written by Luke himself, but had not been sent. If he wanted so badly to tell this girl something, why wouldn't he send it?

Kayn was just staring, thinking, recalling the letter already. 'The baby'. What baby?

"I don't get it," Jem repeated, but with slight variation to the last phrase, "This is like... a love letter. But she was his sister, right?"

"They were both adopted, maybe they didn't really see it as a sibling relationship. It's not that bit though, it's... well... he says 'you and the baby'?"

Jem shrugged and skim-read back over the letter, before handing it to Kayn, shaking his head. Kayn started looking through the text immediately once it was handed to him.

"You don't think..." Kayn started, thinking over his initial theory, "You don't think they had a baby together, do you?"

"No," Jem told him, "Nah, no way. He would have mentioned it if he had another child."

"Except he says 'the baby', Jem - general term. No name. And this was written after he left and it sounds like he was running away and then there's that bit - '_I know I should be there_'!"

"Well, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking, what if - and God, I hope it isn't true - but what if they were together and he left her while she was pregnant? Just because he wasn't ready or something?"

"You know he wouldn't do that."

"What else could it be?! Because, whatever it is, there's a kid involved and he feels guilty!"

Kayn was rapidly beginning to wonder if this was what his grandfather had meant when he'd written 'try to understand'. But if this was well and truly the reality, he most definitely couldn't. What excuse could he possibly have to run away? Why would he do that to the girl he was meant to love? The girl he loved 'more than anything' if what he wrote in this letter was right.

"Kayn, come on, you know your grandad wouldn't do that! Besides, nothing else in this letter backs that up._ 'Have I turned your world upside down because I wasn't good enough'_, I mean, that makes no sense in that context."

"If this is true," Kayn stated, "Then none of it makes sense because I didn't think he was like that."

Jem looked thoughtfully at Kayn for a moment, before standing up and getting Kayn's laptop from the sofa.

"What are you doing with that?!"

Jem laughed and dodged an attack as Kayn tried to grab the machine from him.

"Relax, mister, I'm not gonna look at your internet history or anything... dirty lad."

"Jem!"

"Look, I'm just trying to put your mind at rest about this."

Kayn got up before sitting himself next to Jem, both cross-legged on the floor, as Jem opened up a web browser, typing 'build your family tree' into Google. The first suggestion was a site called FindMyFamily - Jem clicked it and turned to Kayn to state his reasoning.

"Look, if he had another child, it would be here, wouldn't it?"

"Would it?"

"Yes."

There was a box in the centre of the homepage, with the label 'search your name here and start building your family tree'. Jem took to typing 'Kayn Laurie' in the box, hitting 'search' proudly as he finished.

"See. Nothing."

Kayn looked closer at the basic family tree that had appeared on screen. Nothing was unexpected. Kayn's name was at the bottom, along with the caption 'B. 1990, D. -' underneath. There was a line leading up to a woman's name above it.

_Susan Triton  
B. April 1962, D. -_

_'Mother', _Kayn thought, _'Some mother she is.'_

The line leading across from that name was a familiar one.

_Harry Laurie  
B. August 1964, D. December 1997_

Kayn felt a strange hurt at the date underneath. 1997. He was only seven years old when he lost his father, and yet he remembered it so clearly, remembered _him_ so clearly. One of his earliest memories was of his father's 30th birthday party, when his grandmother had gotten up to make a speech, and had opened with 'Harry has been like a son to Luke and I, and his little boy couldn't wish for a better father'. That was certainly true.

Leading up from Susan's name was another pair of familiar faces.

_Jillian Bennet  
B. March 1920, D. October 2007_

_Luke Triton  
B. January 1918, D. March 2011_

His grandmother and grandfather. Grandma Jilly, Grandad Tea and his dad - that was his little family. He missed the times when that was how things were.

Then he noticed the line above his grandfather's name, leading to his great grandparents - two people whom Kayn had never wondered about before.

_Brenda Triton  
B. January 1899, D. June 1927_

_Clark Triton  
B. November 1889, D. December 1946_

Kayn analysed the dates for a moment. Brenda Triton had died in 1927, meaning Luke would have been nine - but Clark Triton hadn't passed away until Luke was twenty-eight. Why had he been raised by this other man? This top-hatted professor that had taken him in? Why hadn't Luke stayed with his father?

"So," Jem told him, "You don't have to worry about that theory now."

"Wait."

"What?"

"Search her, search Flora."

Jem sighed and typed the name from the article. Flora Reinhold.

_Flora Reinhold  
B. September 1845, D. August 1852_

_Elizabeth Flora Reinhold  
B. December 1942, D. -_

_Flora Reinhold  
B. July 1932, D. July 1999_

Kayn scrolled through the names, surprised that there even was this many Flora Reinholds in England. But the dates didn't add up - none of them were Tea's Flora, his 'girl he loved more than anything'.

"She's not here?" Kayn asked, Jem pointing to another part of the page.

"Oh, could this be her?"

_Not what you're looking for? Related results:_

_Flora Reinhart  
B. April 1984, D. -_

_Flora James-Reinhold  
B. March 1918, D. -_

"Flora James-Reinhold, born the same year as your grandad!"

"It could be. Click it."

Jem brought up the family tree for Flora James-Reinhold - it was her.

She had no children. Not according to this record. She had married a man named William James who had passed away in 2001. Her parents were Violet and Augustus Reinhold, who had both died when she was young, which explained why she had been adopted. Her adopted father was, as the article stated, Hershel Layton.

"So, she had no children? What did he mean, then, when he said about a baby?"

"And why is that bloke listed as Flora's adopted parent but not your grandad's?"

"Click him, Jem."

"Huh?"

"The hat bloke - Layton. Maybe there's something about grandad there."

There wasn't. But what they did find was just as interesting.

_Hershel Layton  
B. September 1896, D. December 1980 _

Hershel Layton had no parents listed on the record, but he wasn't without a family. Beside his name was that of an Emmeline Layton-Altava, a woman who was born in 1909 but had passed away in 1991.

"Isn't she in the article as his assisstant?" Jem asked, "Emmy or something? It must be the same woman. You don't meet many Altavas, do you? They must have ended up together."

Kayn nodded, reading the names below their's. They had children - three of them.

_Violet Layton  
B. February 1937, D. -_

_Tobias Layton  
B. May 1939, D. -_

_Alexander Layton  
B. October 1943, D. -_

"Violet, Tobias and Alexander... those are some really upper-class names, there!", Jem laughed - but Kayn had noticed something.

Violet Layton, born in February 1937.

"Jem, go back to the record for Flora."

"Huh?"

"Just... just do it."

Jem watched Kayn's expression as he checked the page.

_Violet Reinhold,  
B. May 1896, D. August 1924_

"What is it?"

"Flora's mum was called Violet."

"Yeah?"

Jem clearly didn't understand, but to Kayn, it had started to make sense.

"Violet Layton was born in 1937, in February - that's eight months after grandad wrote that letter."

"So... nine months after he left."

"Yes."

Jem knew exactly what Kayn was thinking.

"Kayn... I thought we cleared this up! There's got to be some logical explaination here. Your grandad wouldn't have left her."

"Jem, we know he left her, okay. That's fact, that happened. He left her and didn't tell her. What we're wondering is why, and it's starting to look like she was having his kid and he couldn't be bothered."

Jem sighed, shaking his head, not just unconvinced by the idea but also astounded that Kayn would even suspect a thing like that. He knew his boyfriend was sensitive about that sort of thing because he had been abandoned by his mum, but he still couldn't believe Kayn would paint Tea with that same brush.

He looked back at the page, suddenly noticing something he hadn't yet realised.

_Flora James-Reinhold  
B. March 1918, D. -_

"Wait, Kayn - she's still alive. Flora's still alive!"

"Huh?" Kayn turned the laptop to face him, slight disbelief as he noticed for himself, "Oh my god..."

This girl - this girl that his grandfather had loved more than anything during his teenage years - was the only remaining link to Luke Triton's past. She was still alive.

"Kayn, we could find her, she might be able to tell us why he left!"

"You really think we could?"

"We could try to track her down, couldn't we? Mum could help us."

Jem's mum worked in a solicitor's office in the ancestry department - her job was essentially to track down people's relatives. If anyone could help them, it was her.

Kayn couldn't help but feel mixed emotions here. What if he was right? And what if he was wrong but the truth was worse?

Either way, he didn't want to go on not knowing. That was the one thing he was sure of.

_**-o-**_

**It's been almost three weeks this time. Damn. Sort it out, Bethany.**

**These chapters are pretty long, though. I mean, my full stories had smaller word counts than this chapter back in my BetsyFriday days D:**

**Next chapter is back in 1936! Please follow my twitter, oatniel, for any updates, extra bits, Professor Layton related nonsense :P**

**And please, PLEASE, comment - your comments so far have been wonderful and they really make my day :)**

**Bethany x**


	6. Chapter 5

**Grandfather's Clock **

_**1936**_

"Luke!", the professor called upstairs - once again, nothing was called in response, though he was sure there was a faint mumble of discontent to be heard, "Luke?"

A glance at the clock confirmed to him that his calling upstairs was rather pointless - it was a Saturday and not yet nine o' clock. Luke very rarely put in any weekend appearances before at least sixteen minutes past nine. In nine years, the professor had come to notice this but had not once questioned it.

"He would sleep through the end of the world, that boy...", he predicted, shaking his head as he sat down in the living room once again. Flora smiled, faintly, but did not look away once the professor did, peering into his empty teacup as though it would somehow refill.

Luke was right, as he very usually was, Flora thought.

Something _was _different about their guardian. Something was ever-so-slightly off about him. Over the past couple of days, he had behaved on the wrong side of the line of 'strange', or at least by his standards, anyway.

She had not woken to the sound of the professor humming since earlier that week, nor had she noticed him snigger and raise his eyebrow at Emmy if she put in a feeble attempt to tease him over his age. He had not bought or read a newspaper for a few days, and he had not spent as long in a puzzle book as he usually did. Everything had been done with an air of 'I'm just getting through' recently.

"Are you quite all right, my dear?", he asked - Flora nodded, somewhat by default and without any consideration over whether or not the way she felt could really be described as 'quite all right'. Instinct very much argued for the negative option.

"I'm alright, professor. More tea?"

"No, thank you, Flora, I'm fine for the moment."

Flora's eyes widened as he looked away - that spoke for itself.

There was a silence, before the sound of the front door being opened and shut. Since being given a key to their home a couple of years ago, Emmy had been even more like a good friend than an employee to the professor - she tended to show up at their home relatively every day, just to see them. It didn't bother Flora in the slightest, of course it didn't. Emmy was one of the few people she loved, someone she could trust. She often wished Emmy could trust her in the same way, since she rarely told Flora anything that even bordered on serious.

"Morning!", Flora smiled, as Emmy came in and dropped down onto the sofa, as though returning home after a long day at work - nevermind the fact that this actually _was_ where she worked.

"Good morning, Emmy."

"Morning. How are you both this morning?"

"Fine, thank you," the professor smiled, "What brings you here on a Saturday?"

Emmy seemed to think about it.

"Just wanted to come and see you. Actually, there's, uhm... well, in all honesty, professor, there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Oh?"

"Yes, it's just... well, there's just something I need to tell you, that's all."

Emmy looked at Flora, as though her being around while she was saying this made Emmy feel uncomfortable. Flora knew when she wasn't wanted.

"I'll leave you two to it, then," she smiled, standing up from her seat, before Emmy shook her head and laughed a little.

"Oh no, Flora, don't, it'll wait! It's not importa- well, it is, but it'll honestly wait until later."

"Well, I had better go and wake Luke anyway, hadn't I?" she asked, no answer needed, "Besides, I need to go into town."

"I thought you and Luke were going to the library today," the professor stated, somewhat confused, "Researching the new case?"

Flora couldn't recall mentioning such an intention.

"Uhm... yes. Okay."

It was just easier to agree than to have the professor ask questions, because questions needed answers, didn't they?

_**-o-**_

"Luke?"

"Mmmrwnm..."

"Luke, come on."

"Flora, don't... m'tired."

"Luke, I'll come in there."

The threat was limited in it's impact due to the fact Flora was constantly in Luke's bedroom anyway. Luke wasn't fussed - he was about as fussed as any other boy would be if the girl they liked was wandering freely in and out of their room. However, Flora's opinions on this front were entirely different. Her room seemed to be a no-go area for Luke unless he had a good enough reason to be there, and he almost never did.

The bedroom matter was a lot like their relationship, Luke felt. He could love her unconditionally for as long as he lived and she'd still never feel the same. Or would she? He wasn't writing it off just yet.

"Luke, get up, will you?" she asked, clearly disguising the demand as a friendly-sounding question. Flora had, as she'd told him she would, gone into his room to get him.

"Flora, it's Saturday morning."

"Well done," she told him, sarcastically, "At least we know your brain hasn't fallen asleep, too."

"I don't understand why I have to get up."

"I'm not telling you to understand, I'm just telling you to do it."

_Telling_. And there was Luke under the impression that he was a free being.

"Why did you lie to the professor?", she asked, sitting down on his bed. Luke rolled over and sat up to look at her, rubbing his eyes like a child.

"Lie? What?"

"You told him I was going to the library with you or something?"

"Hardly a barefaced lie."

Flora sighed, looking at Luke as he woke himself up a bit more. His hair was awfully scruffy, his blue pajamas seemed to somewhat drown his rather skinny adolescent frame - and yet, Flora found him quite attractive in the morning.

_Emmy was right_, Flora thought. Not about Flora having feelings for him, though... because, well, she didn't. Honestly.

"The professor's acting strange," she stated, eventually, "He's not himself."

"No, I know. He's been so... I don't know. Detached? He's been detached."

"It's not right, he's never been like this. And it isn't just him, you know, Emmy said something strange this morning."

Luke hadn't failed to notice that Emmy had also been a little out-of-character.

"What did she say?"

"She said that she had something to tell him, but she looked so nervous about it. She didn't want me there and I swear whatever it was made her look ill to talk about, like she's ashamed or something."

"She rushed out the other day, didn't she?", Luke asked, "Said she had to meet someone?"

"It was odd. They're both acting odd."

Luke looked down at his duvet covers - why was everyone acting this away? Even Flora had been completely out-of-character.

"Don't mention it, though," Luke told her, "Niether of them will appreciate us talking about them like this."

"I'm not an idiot, I wouldn't have said anything."

Luke nodded. Flora was good at not telling people things - he knew that because she'd definitely been keeping something from him.

He still intended to find out what.

"Anyway," Flora said, "I'm going to go out now. I'll see you later."

"Leaving pretty suddenly," Luke told her, "Where are you going, anyway?"

"Out."

"Where?"

"Out of your bedroom, that's for sure - it smells of _boy_ in here!", she laughed, covering up what Luke silently deemed 'suspicious behaviour' with a sarcastic joke. Luke smiled and nodded, convincingly enough, he thought.

"I'll see you later then, Flora!" he chirped, Flora smiling back as she left the room. The minute she left, he found himself frowning.

Flora had seemed as though everything was normal, all was fine - and yet, it just wasn't. She was keeping something from Luke. He knew that. What was confusing him was that she was so good at it!

Luke thought to himself for a moment - sometimes, there was no other way to solve a problem than to fight fire with fire. If she wanted to be so dishonest, perhaps Luke could use some form of dishonesty to find out what was happening. Surely that wasn't wrong?

Was it?

_**-o-**_

"I'll be back around four," Flora stated, putting on her coat in the doorway of the living room, "I promised I'd make dinner tonight, didn't I?"

"Hmm... well, you don't... you don't have to, you know, Flora," the professor assured her, Flora shaking her head.

"No, really, I don't mind, professor! You'll join us, Emmy, won't you?"

"Actually, Flora, I-"

"Yes!", the professor jumped in, "Yes, Emmy will join us."

"Good! Alright, I'll see you later!"

"Goodbye, Flora!"

As Flora left the house, Emmy shot the professor an almost deadly look.

"Oh, I'll be joining you, will I?", she asked, sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. The professor just laughed.

"Well, you taught her to, uhm... 'cook'. Surely, it's only fair that you, Emmy, taste the food she creates."

"Hmm. Of course."

It had been ten minutes since the professor had handed Emmy the case notes. And, before Flora had knocked at the living room door, it had been a whole ten minutes since he had begun staring Emmy over as she read through the details of their next job, wetting her thumb and forefinger with the tip of her tongue each time she needed to turn the page.

He hadn't forgotten. Of course he hadn't forgotten. He had thought of nothing else since she'd arrived - she had 'something to tell him'. She _never _had 'something to tell him'. Not in the sense that there was never any news, never anything she wanted to speak with him about - they hardly ever stopped speaking with one another, they certainly were not lost for words - but in the sense that when you have 'something to tell', it's important. No matter how she dismissed it to Flora, he knew deep down that whatever Emmy wanted to say was an important matter.

But he wouldn't push her - he hated pushing her. If she wanted to say it, she would say it.

Something that most certainly hadn't escaped his attention that morning was Emmy's interest in the case notes. Of course, Emmy was always interested in new cases, but she was really taking this one in, despite the fact that it looked to be a rare case for the professor where everything was as it seemed. No robots, this time. No time machines, false vampires, musical spectres - just an inheritance dispute. Yet Emmy was buried in the case notes like she had been handed the most interesting thing to have existed in the universe.

It wasn't even a work day, it was Saturday. She didn't even need to be at the house, let alone actually working - though it pleased the professor to see her.

"You seem awfully keen," he observed, eventually, "Something piqued your interest?"

Emmy looked up and smiled, her lips twitching at the corners as though the expression was little more than false.

"The case, Professor."

"What about it?"

"It's interesting."

Layton couldn't help but chuckle - was it?

"You really think so? I must say, inheritance disputes aren't really a favourite of mine."

"That was how you ended up with Flora, though!"

"Well, I think we can both agree that the Reinhold dispute was a fairly isolated case, Emmy!", he told her, "Most of these inheritance disputes are just... spoiled children arguing over money they don't really need."

"Money that they pay you with once you've solved the case?", she smiled, playfully. She always had that same glint in her eyes whenever she teased him, a glint that the professor was sure would not look nearly as lovely on any other woman. Then again, Emmy was one of the only women he really _knew_.

"Well, yes, there is that... not that it makes it any more interesting!"

"Hmm, I'm sure!", she grinned, unconvinced. Then from the radio, something really did catch her interest. "Ah, I love this song!"

"Turn it up, if you like."

Emmy didn't really need to be told. She turned up the radio, dancing whilst sat in her chair. She had always loved music, the professor had noticed, but she enjoyed different music to the things he liked. The professor loved classical music, elegant and iconic, the sort that made you feel as though it was being played live in front of you - Emmy liked jazz. She liked dancing to the music when others weren't around, though he often saw her and just didn't mention it, not wishing to embarrass her.

The professor smiled as he watched her, fidgeting to the music. It had dawned on him one night recently that he had never seen Emmy cry, had never even seen her frown. She was a marvel to him, always the shoulder to cry on and never anything less. She had a smile that could melt the poles and he was lucky enough to see it every day.

The professor stood up and walked over to the armchair she was sat in, holding out his hand.

"Would you like to dance, Miss Altava?"

Emmy laughed, taken aback by the offer, yet so very pleasantly surprised - she took his hand and stood up next to him, smiling.

"Of course, Mr Layton!"

It was astounding to the both of them that it wasn't awkward. In fact, it was actually rather amusing, as well as being surprising as they realised that, in five years, they had never danced together before.

Something Emmy was noticing was that the professor was not exactly a person with two left feet. In fact, he was surprisingly _good_.

"I didn't know you could dance," she told him, "I know it's a typical gentleman thing and you're a typical gentleman, but I just... didn't have you down as one to dance."

"I haven't danced in years," the professor laughed, trying his hardest to keep in time with the music, "I only learned to impress Claire."

"Oh.", Emmy smiled, weakly. The professor's admission was sweet, sincere, but Emmy's mind had failed to process the particularly lovely nature of the comment, as a faint jealousy washed over her. It seemed that the professor had never before, and had not since, looked at a woman in the same way he looked at Claire. Emmy felt instantly guilty for the thought - jealous of a woman who wasn't even alive. Though one thing that pleased her was 'I haven't danced in years' - was she the first woman to dance with him in all that time? And he had been the one to offer? It meant little, but, to Emmy, it was a comforting thought. "You're very good, you know."

"Well, she hel-" Layton stopped himself speaking any further about Claire. He looked down at his assistant, her eyes on her feet, looking away from her employer - then he realised that, in that moment, it was about nobody but the two of them. He wasn't sure why, but he just knew it was. "You're very good yourself, Emmy."

Emmy looked up, happier this time, as he held her hand a little tighter than before, erasing any thoughts from his mind that dancing with Emmy was awkward in any aspect. In fact, he couldn't stop smiling.

Though he soon noticed that he couldn't say the same for her.

"Emmy," he started, Emmy looking up at him as he spoke, "Is there something troubling you?"

"No, I... I like dancing with you, professor."

"But is there something wrong? There was something you wanted to tell me, wasn't there?"

Emmy smiled, but - again - it was weak. The professor knew what this meant. Emmy would not lie to him, but she would keep things from him, reflecting his questions with smiles and changes of subject. There _was_ something wrong, yet she would not say.

In the end, the professor decided to let Emmy speak with him in her own time.

"Well, let's just keep dancing together, shall we?"

Emmy smiled again as he pulled her in closer - a genuine, wide, golden smile. Clearly, she liked that suggestion very much.

"Yes, Professor. Let's just keep dancing together."

_Let's just keep dancing together_, she thought, _and never need to stop_.

One song - just one song to dance to, to make each other laugh to - turned to three. Three songs turned to four. Four turned to five. They kept dancing with one another because it made things go away - worries, concerns, anxieties. It felt like comfort in it's quietest form. It _was_ comfort in it's quietest form. And yet, for Emmy, it hurt so much.

"Emmy," the professor started, eventually, "Luke has been awfully worried about you recently."

Emmy smiled as though it was funny, but shook her head, too. _Luke_. _Luke_ had been worried. Not the professor, but Luke. It wasn't as though she actively seeked out the professor's concern, or even really cared, but if for once, just once, he would admit to giving so much as a second thought for her... well, maybe it would momentarily stop her feeling like she had been conversing with a brick wall for the past five years.

"Why would he worry?", she laughed, nonchallontly, "He worries too much, that boy..."

"He says you've been distant. He was confused when you left quickly the other day."

Emmy smiled at him again, but again said nothing.

It was times like this when the professor knew that there was something wrong - when she smiled silently, rather than answering his question. She was usually calm under pressure, she was usually able to cope with every situation, but she wouldn't lie. Not to him. Not to her professor.

"Emmy...", the professor muttered, softly, the tips of his fingers gently lifting her chin so that she was now looking up at him. She was not crying and did not look like she would cry, but her eyes still looked wet, worried. "What is it? Come on, Emmy, I know there must be something wrong."

Emmy had seen the 'lifting the girl's chin so you were staring into each other's eyes' movement in romantic films, and had read numerous books where this was used before the characters kiss for the first time - but there was no romance here. This was different.

The professor quickly realised that he had done what he always had to stop himself doing - he was pushing her to tell him something. He put his hand down quickly and smiled at her, attempting to look as though he understood the feelings that she had not even explained to him. But Emmy just stared.

"Emmy... you don't have to tell me.", he assured her. She shook her head.

Emmy had decided that she was too far in to back out now, and she would have had to tell him eventually, no matter how much her mind had played over the idea of letters or notes or other ways of telling him without really _telling_ him. He needed to know, because keeping it any longer would not be fair.

"I'm resigning."

"What?", he asked, immediately. This time, Emmy's throat was sore - hearing herself say it, the words cut her. They were harsh and cold. She felt selfish for ending five near-perfect years with the professor this way. This was not how it was supposed to end.

He had stepped away from her and was staring, awaiting explanation. She swallowed down on any sign of tears, fruitlessly attempting to stay calm, to not realise the ridiculousness of what she was doing.

"I left the other day because I... I had to go to talk to someone. It was a job interview, I suppose, he's looking for a secretary."

"Emmy, you're not a secretary, you're far better than that, why would you even look to do that? Why are you leaving me? Is it... I don't know! Have I said something?"

"It's been five years."

The statement did very little to explain, but Emmy didn't know how else to say it.

"What does that change, Emmy?"

"I've... Hershel, I've worked for you since I was 22."

"You're not answering my question!" the professor told her - it was a different tone this time. It was frustrated, it was strained. "Is it that you feel like you've not done enough with your life or something, do you feel like you've wasted your time?!"

"No! Of course not, no!"

"Then why?!", he pressured, "Why are you giving up what we have as a team, as _friends_, to work in a worse-off job that you are far too intelligent for?!"

"It's something I have to do, Professor! I can't stay here, I can't stay in London, I can't work under you anymore, I just can't!"

"Why?!"

"Why won't you let it go?!"

The professor was so full of frustration, so hurt, so _angry_... and yet shouting at her felt so wrong. No matter how loudly he said it, no harsh word would switch her decision. All that was left, he decided, was to _plead_.

"Please, Emmy," he started, breathily, moving up close to her and running his hand up and down her upper arm, supportively, "Please just explain to me, just tell me... what is it? Why are you doing this?"

"I'm sorry, Hershel. I promise, I am."

"Emmy, don't, please. Please don't leave."

"I'd like to make this my final case with you," she told him, biting back tears, "I never wanted to leave so suddenly, but there was never going to be an easy way to say it."

"Emmy."

"I'll see you on Monday."

Emmy turned and picked up her bag from beside the living room door, rushing out of the house for the second time that week.

Both of them knew of the pain they were causing themselves. Neither of them realised fully of the pain they were causing each other.

_**-o-**_

Luke knew there was something wrong about following her and knew how angered she would be if she found out - but he had convinced himself that this was the right thing to do. Flora could have been keeping anything, and it might just have been something that was putting her in danger. If there was even a possibility of that, then surely Luke was doing the right thing. _Surely_.

He wasn't going to follow her all day, either. He'd left without saying anything to the professor, since the first thing he'd heard upon going downstairs was 'you're awfully good at dancing, Professor' - it seemed like a moment that they would want undisturbed. And not really a moment Luke would want to see, anyway.

Flora had been walking for a while before Luke, but she was pretty easy to catch up with. Flora was a slow-walker - intentionally, really, since she liked to take in the sights around her, even if the sights around her were just men on market stalls trying to sell you things you didn't want nor need. That was London, though, and Flora did love London, purely because St Mystere was so different.

Now he was only a short distance from Flora, and she was just stood against a wall, waiting.

Clearly, she was meeting someone. He didn't know who, but the fact she even was, Luke thought, was strange. Why didn't she tell him? Who was she meeting and why did she have to keep it from him?

Luke noticed Flora's eyes seem to light up, as a huge smile crossed her face. Then he saw him.

Robin Bridgely walking over to her, smiling. He took hold of her hand and kissed her on the cheek, and Flora just couldn't stop grinning. He said something to her, she nodded - then, hand-in-hand, they walked off.

Well, Luke wasn't going to follow them.

_That_ was what Flora was hiding?! Why would she hide that?! What made her think she couldn't tell him?!

And more to the point, why _him_? Why some guy like him when Luke had been there for her since he'd met her? What on Earth did he have to do to gain her attention, her affection?

Luke just stood, staring, before falling back against the wall, just leaning there and sighing, frsutrated. There had been so many moments - so many - when he thought 'maybe she feels the same', and it had turned out that she never did!

Wasn't he good enough for her? _Really_? Was there something so wrong with him?

"Flora...", he groaned, at a loss for how else to feel other than to be completely hurt, even though he knew deep down that Flora would never have wanted him to feel that way about this - or about anything else, even. That wasn't the person she was.

But he couldn't help it. Of course it hurt.

He wanted Flora to be happy - he loved her, her happiness was more the most important thing for him. But he wanted to be the one to make her happy.

He hated Robin Bridgely... because Flora clearly didn't.

_**-o-**_

She was gone. She was gone and it felt like she wasn't coming back.

_'I'll see you on monday.'_

It was a statement - not a suggestion - yet he felt like he had lost Emmy. Well, he _had_ lost Emmy.

Why was she resigning? After five years, why would she cut it out now? Things had changed, but they had changed for the better! She had shown no sign - none at all - that she was planning to resign. She had taken him more by shock and complete speechlessness than just surprise. All he could ask was 'why', and he felt he would never know.

She, in all honesty, was the change in him. She was the difference between the person he was and the person he had become.

It could be said that Emmy had simply picked up where Claire had so suddenly and tragically left off in the process of restoring him to a man he was proud to be, but Emmy had done more than that. She hadn't just restored him, as though varnishing an old oak table - she had taken him and made him _better_ than he could have ever been if she had not practically _burst_ into his life. She hadn't simply repaired him, she had saved him. He was a broken man, a shattered mess, and she had come along with her infectious and, admittedly, refreshing attitude to what he saw as a terrible world and just... worked some sort of magic.

Wait. No. Not _magic_. To call it magic felt like he was calling her dishonest, as though she tricked him into building himself up, and that was not how things were. It was just her natural impact. Emmy had a God-given gift for making those around her happier than you could have ever wished to be. 'The Emmy Effect' had changed him forever, and he didn't want it to reverse itself for as long as he lived.

But she was gone now, wasn't she? Or going. Either way, this was not _his _Emmy, his friend, his assisstant, his confidante... his _everything_, alongside the children. It was _his_ Emmy that he had danced with, but she had somehow become lost within those few moments, only to be replaced by a cold, detached shell of herself.

'_I am resigning, professor'_, she had said.

'_You are tearing my world apart'_, he had thought.

Hershel looked around his kitchen as he sat at the table. Mornings would change. _Mornings._ His favourite part of the day.

At six 'o clock, he woke. At eight-thirty, Emmy arrived. Those two and half hours between the two events were always the longest of the day, and had been for four out of the five years he had been her employer.

Yet he didn't want them to change, because at the end of those two and a half hours was the arrival that made every morning not just bearable, but pleasant. Emmy's arrival.

Would he never have that again?

Would he _cope_ with never having that again?

Thoughts, as always, went interrupted as the front door was opened and promptly closed.

"I can't just be happy, can I?!", were Luke's opening words, as opposed to the rather customary 'hello', "I can't just have good things happen and for them to stay that way!"

Luke paced through to the kitchen, looking as frustrated as his first statement implied he would be. Though he didn't continue speaking - upon noticing the professor's expression, sat alone at the kitchen table, new concerns climbed the pile.

"What's wrong?"

There was no reason not to say.

"Emmy is leaving us."

"What?!" Luke was shocked. "You mean she's quit?!"

"Yes. She told me this morning that this will be her final case. She has already taken another job as a secretary."

"Why would she do that?!", he asked, astounded by what he was hearing, "She loves it here, she loves _working for you_!"

"Not anymore, it appears."

"And have you asked her why?!"

"Of course!", the professor told him, almost snappily, "It was the first thing I asked! But she wouldn't tell me, would she?!"

"I don't understand. I don't understand why she would just quit!"

"Well, that makes two of us! And I very much doubt that Flora will be any wiser to the reason!"

Luke's teeth itched at the word 'Flora', and he knew that it showed on his face that this name he usually saw as the summary of all that was good in his life was now a sound that cut through him at the very mention, not least because the professor instantly noticed.

"What?", he asked, "What is it? Don't tell me that you and Flora still haven't gotten over this argument!"

"She's been keeping things from me," he said, a sulking, guilty expression about him, "And she's been keeping things from you."

"Luke... my boy, you need to let this go," the professor groaned, "You can't keep accusing her without knowing th-"

"But I do know! I do know that she's been keeping things because I just saw her!"

"And what do you mean by 'things'?!", the professor questioned, "Luke, she isn't getting herself into any trouble, is she?"

Luke was silent.

"Luke!"

He didn't want to say, deep down. He knew that it went against his nature. But this had changed him somehow, and he wanted to _hurt _her - it was disgusting, but he wanted her to be upset. He wanted her to feel betrayed like he did.

"I saw her. With Robin Bridgely. She kissed him, they were holding hands, it looks like it's been going on for ages."

The professor seemed to run cold, his eyes widening.

"Wh- what? She's with... no, she... Luke, are you sure it was him?"

"What? Yes! That's not the point, the point is that-"

"Oh... oh, god. No."

"Professor?"

The professor had his fist over his mouth, pinching at his lips as he stared off.

"Luke, I... Luke, it's been a difficult day for both of us, and... look, I just... I think I'll go out."

"What?!"

"Just, I... Luke, it's fine."

He wasn't making any sense, but Luke did nothing but watch as the professor pulled his coat from the bannister and left the house - though when he had left, he walked nowhere for a while. Instead, he leaned up against the front door, the cold air at his face doing little to affect him while he was already numb.

_"Oh, Flora,"_ he thought_, "What on Earth are you doing?!"_

_**-o-**_

Luke was somewhat shaking. His mind had that look on the professor's face embedded within him.

What was it about the name 'Robin Bridgely'? Why had that been so important?!

Luke had spent countless nights without sleeping attempting to understand why the name 'Bridgely' seemed to affect the professor so very much - but now this, too. Why was Flora affected?

Then a theory hit him that he hadn't yet come across.

_"Turns out, Corneil Bridgely didn't just have three kids," _Emmy had told him, a few days ago, that day when the professor had left, going to take a call, "_Turns out, Corneil Bridgely was a bit of a womaniser. He'd had six affairs, two at the same time. He had three illegitimate children, too. A son who'd be 13 now, a son who'd be 11 now and a daughter who'd be 18 now."_

_A daughter who'd be 18 now._

_The same age as his legitimate son, Robin._

_The same Robin that Flora was seeing._

_'A daughter who'd be 18 now'._

_Like Flora._

Luke sat himself down at the kitchen table. If he was finding it hard to work out this case at first, he was finding it near impossible to work out the details now.

Near impossible and very near unbearable.

_**-o-**_

**I GOT IT UP ON A THURSDAY. (Technically. It's actually 00:40 on a Friday.)**

**I was so determined to get this up on schedule, I swear - I thought it was going to be another three week gap or something, but one of my coursework deadlines was postponed so I had time to finish this. Because, you know, what better way to use extra coursework completion time than doing something completely irrelevant? ;D**

**TWITTER IS LONELY RIGHT NOW. Please follow and introduce yourself! oatniel :)**

**-Bethany x**

**And I'd just love to say, thank you so much for your reviews. I'm half-way through this fic now and I'm loving every second of writing it. Please make my day and post a review to this latest chapter!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Grandfather's Clock**

_**2011**_

"Oh my god, Catherine, you angel!", Kayn exclaimed, throwing his arms around the woman and putting the piece of paper into his pocket. Catherine looked more amused than overwhelmed as she pulled away.

Flora's address. Catherine had given them Flora's address.

"It's fine, really! I feel as though I owe you a thank you. But promise me, Kayn," she started, "This stays between the three of us. My boss would have my guts for garters if he found out."

"Believe me, it's like it never even happened."

"Why did you two want her address, anyway?", Catherine asked, stirring the tea before handing a mug to Kayn and a mug to her son - who already had a mouth full of biscuit. Typical Jem. You wouldn't guess it to see him, but he had one hell of an appetite. His excuse was that he was trying to put on some weight, since he'd been called 'twiglet' throughout school, due to his thin frame. Even Kayn could understand why Jem felt the need to become a bit more full-looking. To quote his favourite _Doctor Who _character, 'you give him a hug, you get a paper cut'.

"She's the only person alive that knew my grandad closely before he moved to Dorset," Kayn told her, "So, we're hoping she'll be able to tell us stuff about him that I didn't know."

"She's ninety-three...", Jem pointed out, obviously, "I hope she remembers him..."

"Well, would you remember me?", Kayn asked him, Jem looking somewhat surprised.

"Of course I would!"

"Hmm, don't take it as word, Kayn," Catherine started, grinning, "My Jem would forget he was living if he didn't bump into a door every so often!"

"Yeah, I wonder where I get that from... _mum_."

"Well, it must be from your dad, because he seems to have forgotten he's even got kids."

Catherine rolled her eyes at the mention of her ex-husband, who hadn't really been around since Jem was younger. He got Christmas presents and birthday cards, although Kayn remembered Jem being more than a bit miffed on his 21st birthday when his dad sent him a card for his 'little man Jeremy, 23 today'.

_'He's got such a perfect son'_, Kayn had thought, _'The least he could do is remember how old he is.'_

"I'm not a kid, mum," Jem whined, "I'm twenty-one and I'm a _man_."

It was at this point that Jem's sister put in an appearance, swanning into the kitchen on silent cue.

"I've got more manliness in my little finger, Jem."

"Aww, Whitney, leave him alone!", Kayn laughed, "Jem's only got a little bit of masculinity and you're poking fun at it!"

"Jesus," Jem groaned, "What is this? International 'take the mick out of Jem' day?!"

"Oh, yeah, because - right this moment - there's kids in China calling you a 'pansy' from across the world."

"Whitney! Will you tell her, mum?!"

"Jeremy," she laughed, somewhat evilly, "You're a man, aren't you? You can deal with it yourself."

"Honestly, what's the world coming to? My mum, my boyfriend and my sister, all in league against me."

Kayn put his arm around Jem as they both leaned against the kitchen counter, pulling him close to him. "Nobody's plotting against you... idiot."

"Kayn!"

"I'm kidding, Jem, don't get so anal about it."

Whitney burst out laughing, almost spitting out the cheese cracker she'd just shoved in her mouth.

"Well, you two would know a lot about that, wouldn't you?"

"_Whitney!_" Catherine gasped, nudging her daughter in disbelief, "You're not too old for a stint on the naughty step, you know!"

"I'm twenty-five."

"You're still my baby!", she told her, ruffling Whitney's hair before pointing her finger at Jem, "And the same goes for you, He-Man!"

"He-Man?", Jem laughed, "I think that's our cue to leave... London's a while away."

He walked over and kissed his mum before Catherine pulled him into a huge mumsy cuddle. Kayn smiled, wishing deep down that he'd had that. Being without a mum hadn't affected him too much, considering his dad and grandparents compensated more than enough by loving him unconditionally - but he would never know things like that. His grandmother was always there with a hug for him, but it never really stopped him wishing his mum had been there, too, just to embrace him in a cuddle whenever he wanted one - and when he didn't, if Jem and Catherine's relationship was anything to go by!

Kayn used to imagine as a child that his mum was in his life - but, in his imagination, she was a completely different woman. She wasn't some drug-taking, chain-smoking alcoholic that couldn't give a toss whether or not he needed a mum. She was like every other kid's mum. She liked to read him bedtime stories, she was always too proud of the slightest good thing he did - she nagged if he left the house without giving him a kiss.

That was Kayn's idea of Susan Triton, though the real Susan Triton was everything opposite.

"Love you," Jem smiled, "And you, most of the time, Whitney."

"Hmm. I can live with that."

"Anyway, shall we go then?"

"Oh, uhm.. yeah," Kayn started, gesturing towards the mug he was holding, "Just let me finish my drink first, alright?"

"Alright, I'll go get my coat. Don't take ages, though."

"Don't worry, I won't."

Jem gave Kayn a peck on the mouth before leaving the kitchen, leaving Kayn alone with Catherine and Whitney.

"I didn't get to ask you how you've been over the last few days, Kayn."

Kayn nodded to Catherine, sipping at the rest of his tea.

"I've been alright. Jem's been great, he's made everything a lot easier on me."

"He dotes on you, you know."

"I know, I'm lucky to have him."

Catherine smiled, before nodding, "He's just as lucky to have you!"

"Well, I'm glad you think so," he laughed, "But I honestly don't know what I've had done without him this past few days."

"I'm just glad you've taken him off our hands for a bit!", Whitney laughed, before pulling out her phone and going to leave the kitchen, "I'll see you soon, anyway."

"See you later, Whit." Kayn waited until Whitney had left before he spoke up again to Catherine, a little quieter than he had been up to then. "Actually, Catherine, I wanted to talk to you about that..."

"About what?"

"Well, I didn't want to ask Jem until I asked you, but... well, what would you think about Jem maybe staying with me a bit longer?"

"How much longer?", she grinned, sensing Kayn's nervousness, and, most probably, the reason behind it.

"Well... it's been three years since we got together and... well, what if he moved in with me?"

Catherine laughed, putting her mug down on the counter and giving Kayn the same sort of cuddle she'd given Jem, all mumsy and overwhelming.

"Come here, sweetheart!", she smiled, "I can't think of anybody I'd rather have ask me that than you."

"So, it's okay?"

"Of course it is, love! Look at you, you're a nervous wreck, bless your little heart! What did you think I was going to say?!"

"Well... I don't really know! Like you said, he's your baby boy!"

"Yes, and like Jem said himself, my baby boy is all grown up!", she laughed, "And he's picked a bloody good boy to grow up with, Kayn, that's for sure! I'm sure he'll be delighted when you ask him."

"I hope so, because I do love Jem, Cathy. I don't think he knows that sometimes."

"I'm sure he knows, pet, don't worry about that. Never shuts up about you when he's here, he loves you to absolute pieces."

"Like I said, I'm a lucky bloke."

Kayn shot around as a familiar voice spoke up from the doorway to the kitchen. "A lucky bloke who needs to get in the car! It's a six hour drive, Kayn!"

"Yeah, sorry, Jem! We'd best get going."

"Ooh, you've got Kayn sorted, haven't you, Jem?"

"Huh?" Kayn squeaked, confused. Catherine and Jem just laughed. Proctor family humor, he supposed, until he realised what they were laughing at. Him.

"He's like my puppy." Jem laughed, Catherine smiling back.

"Got him trained, have you?"

"No, I mean, he just whines and eats and sleeps all the time and yet I still love him."

Catherine and Jem, once again, just laughed together, sharing the joke like friends sharing a chocolate bar or something...

"Less of that, eh, Jem?" Kayn suggested, as he took hold of Jem's hand, Jem just smiling at him. "Come on, then, let's go. See you later, Cathy!"

"See you later, Kayn! And drive carefully!", she warned, "Don't you forget, you've got my little man with you. Precious cargo and all that."

"We'll be fine!", Jem groaned, giving his mum a kiss before he and Kayn went to leave. "Love you, mum."

As they got in the car, Kayn realised he was actually rather surprised that Catherine had managed to even go that few minutes without blurting out to Jem that Kayn was going to ask him to move in - in fact, he was surprised by Catherine's reaction. She was so motherly, so protective of Jem, yet she seemed to trust Kayn so much.

"So, where are we going?", Jem asked, turning on the Sat Nav in Kayn's car. He hated that thing. He hated it's voice and the way it ordered him around, and it didn't matter to him whether the voice was that of a human or not. It told him what to do, and he didn't like being told what to do.

But this time, it was necessary.

"44 Saint George Place, Westminster, London.", Kayn told him, before sighing. Jem took hold of Kayn's hand.

"Are you sure you're alright with this?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I mean... this could be important," he reasoned, attempting to convince himself that this was alright, that there was nothing even slightly strange about tracking down your late grandfather's possible ex-girlfriend from when he was eighteen to ask if they had a secret child together. Nothing about this was even slightly normal. "I'm just sort of worried. What if she hated him for leaving? I mean, he never sent that letter we found, he must have been terrified of how she would react."

"Or," Jem suggested, "He just didn't want to be found. He wrote in that letter 'I'll probably have moved once you get this', but he stayed here, in West Bay, didn't he? West Bay is tiny, if she'd have recieved the letter, she would have come looking for him, and Tea didn't want that."

"Why not?"

"Well, we don't know 'why not' yet, do we? We're still asking 'why did he leave?' and both those questions probably have the same answer," he stated, reasoning with Kayn, "That's why we want to meet Flora. She might be able to tell us."

"Or she might hate him for leaving and tell us get out her house for just _knowing_ him."

"I doubt it. She's 93, she's not going to get her boxing gloves out, is she?"

"Grandad's boxing gloves are still under his bed and he got those out all the time. He only _started_ boxing when he was 87 and he did it right up until he passed away."

Jem frowned. There was very little convincing Kayn of any stereotypes regarding the elderly, since his grandfather was most definitely not a stereotypical OAP. He once went to a cafe with Kayn and Tea where they were serving a 'pensioner's special: a cream tea and a fruit scone for just £1.50'. Tea shook his head, tutting, and asked the waitress for a double espresso and a Callipo ice lolly. It was the first time Jem had seen him refuse an offer of tea - and Kayn was just as surprised.

When Kayn had gone to the bathroom, just as Tea was finishing his espresso, he asked Jem a question.

"Tell me something, Jem," he started, "What would you put down as the 'student's special' at this place?"

"I... what?"

"I'm just wondering. If the pensioner's special is cream tea and a scone, what would the student's special be?"

"I have... I have no idea, Mr Triton."

By this point, Jem was considerably confused, but Tea looked entertained, a somewhat mischeivous smile playing across his lips and a visible glint in his eye.

"You know, Jem, I think it would be a double espresso and a Callipo ice lolly."

To this day, Jem wasn't completely sure why Tea had looked so proud, flashing that smirk that displayed his satisfaction perfectly. He supposed that Tea had made it some sort of personal mission not to fit in, to not become the typical connotation of 'old' - and he had succeeded. Jem was just as astounded by Luke Triton as everyone else who knew him.

So, as his grandfather was such an astounding man, Kayn had never bought into the stereotype of the sweet, mild elderly woman that Jem expected Flora James to be.

_**-o-**_

Three hours passed before they pulled up outside a terraced corner-house in London. Saint George Place was a quiet sort of street, coming off of a street of shops, with a grand-looking church opposite. The raised church gardens had cherry blossoms down either side of the path and some of the blossoms had fallen off in the wind, now scattered on the street. It was awfully picturesque, especially in the early Spring evening - Kayn couldn't help but look out of the car window at the orange sky, above the church and the cherry blossoms and the old houses and feel as though he was looking at an artwork in a gallery. This was the second time he had been to London. It was considerably prettier this time around.

"Number 44." Jem pointed out, gesturing towards the house. Kayn groaned and fell back into his seat, his arms stretched against the steering wheel of his car.

"Ugh... How do we do this? Do we just... knock and tell her who we are? And how do I mention him?"

"There's no point planning it out, Kayn."

"Why?"

"Because we don't know how she'll be, how she'll react," he told him, Kayn nodding as he realised that it made sense, "We just have to play this by ear. The best thing we can do is just see how this pans out."

Kayn stared at the dashboard in front of him and took a deep breath. Jem was right. There was really nothing to be gained from sitting in the car, and nothing to be lost from getting out and knocking at the door.

"Right. Let's do it, then."

"Kayn," Jem began, taking hold of his hand, "It'll be fine."

Kayn said nothing, but acknowledged Jem's reassurance with a smile, before pulling free and opening the door. Simply getting out of the car and stepping onto the street sent his heart into his mouth - this woman could tell them so much, and yet it seemed like he might come away from this feeling less than happy with what he had heard. And did Jem and Kayn even have any right turning up like this? Turning up, seventy years later, on behalf of a man who had left her high and dry, a man who was not even there to apologise. Was this right? Was this right at all?

Kayn took hold of Jem's hand, this time, staying close to one another as they opened the front gate and stopped in front of the door. This was it. She could tell them all they needed to know.

"You knock, Jem."

He did, and a woman was quick to answer.

She was old, definitely over the age of sixty-five, but she could not have been Flora James-Reinhold, though Jem asked anyway.

"Uhm... Flora James-Reinhold?"

The woman was confused and shook her head. "No, I'm not."

"Oh," he started, "Do you... do you know where we can find her?"

The woman looked them up and down, visibly sceptical, though both of them could understand. She had never seen them before, yet these men had turned up at her door and had started asking all these questions. Nevertheless, she did not close the door, but instead put a question of her own to them.

"Who are you, can I ask?"

This time, Kayn spoke up, gesturing to himself and Jem as he told her.

"My name is Kayn Laurie, this is my... well, my partner, Jem Proctor."

"No, I mean," she corrected, "Why are you asking after Flora?"

_Flora_. This woman knew her, otherwise she would have called her Mrs James - in fact, she probably wouldn't even be asking.

Kayn decided just to tell her. Whoever she was, she could most likely take them to Flora, anyway.

"We understand that Mrs James knew my grandfather, Luke Triton," he told her, in a tone far more formal than the way he usually spoke, "And she appears to be the only remaining person who knew him closely before he moved from London. We were just... we were hoping she could tell us something about him."

The woman looked thoughtful for a moment, before nodding and stepping aside to allow them past.

"You'd better come in, then," she told them, both of them obliging before she shut the door behind them, "I'm Flora's sister, Violet Layton."

"Ah, nice to meet you," Jem smiled, "Thank you for letting us in."

"No, I mean, if it's about an old friend, I'm sure she'll be pleased. So, this Luke, who was he? I've never heard him mentioned."

What? Never?! Luke had lived with the professor and Flora for so many years, was so in love with Flora, and yet he had never been mentioned to Violet or, most probably, her brothers?

"Well, I assume you know Flora is adopted?"

"Yes," Violet started, "She was adopted by my father when she was fifteen, wasn't she?"

Kayn nodded, going on to explain, "Well, Luke Triton had been adopted by your father at the age of nine and lived with your father and sister until he was eighteen, before moving to London. I hoped to speak to Flora about him since he never told me anything about his childhood."

"He lived with my family for nine years?"

"Yes."

"Why have they never told me about him?"

"With all due respect," Jem began, "That's really what we'd like to know."

Violet allowed us to follow her through to a room coming off of the front hallway, before she knocked on the door - Violet stepped into the room whilst the boys stayed outside as she introduced them.

"Flora? I've got two boys here to see you."

"Two boys?", a woman asked from inside, "Can't remember the last time that happened."

"They wanted to talk to you about a man you used to know."

"Alright, well, let them in then, Violet!"

Violet rolled her eyes, smiling at her sister's snappy tone - clearly, she was used to it.

"Go on in," she told them. They did.

The room was an old-fashioned room - a study, almost. There was a fireplace with books lined up either side, which hadn't fit on the full bookcase to one side of it. Above the fireplace was an old, somewhat battered-at-the-edges mirror. The alcove beside the fireplace was filled by a television, with photographs hung on the wall above it. Some were black and white, with familiar figures smiling up from them - the top-hatted professor, Flora herself, the woman in the yellow coat. Some were in colour but still considerably faded and old looking, taken in the 70s or 80s. His grandfather was on none of them.

In front of the television was an armchair. In the armchair was a woman, who looked over to them, smiling warmly.

"Hello, boys," she chirped up, her voice that of any woman of her age, "What's this about, then?"

Flora James-Reinhold was the same age as Kayn's grandfather, but very different. Luke Triton was energetic, talkative, never stopped moving right up until his final day - Flora James-Reinhold was frail and weak-looking, with pale, wrinkled skin. Her hair - dark, thick and cascading in the photographs from Luke's bureau - was now white and wiry, and it looked to be falling out. It was a sad sight for Kayn, knowing who this old lady was, but he knew that it would have been a sadder sight for Luke after all those years without her.

It was Jem who spoke first, knowing that this was already difficult for Kayn.

"Hello, Mrs James," he started, "My name is Jem, this is Kayn. We wanted to talk to you about an old friend of your's."

"I've known a lot of people," she smiled, "Which friend are you here for?"

Kayn took a breath in, but not to speak. He didn't want to. He would let Jem talk for as long as it was fair.

"Well... Luke Triton."

The smile vanished from Flora's face. She covered her mouth with her hands and blinked several times. They knew she would not have been expecting this.

"L- Luke? _My_ Luke? You know him?"

Kayn decided that, this time, it had to be him to answer her.

"He was my grandfather."

Flora looked astounded - completely and utterly astounded - but her face changed once again, at his sudden analysis of how Kayn had replied.

"_Was_?"

Kayn frowned. "I'm sorry."

The words were self-explainatory, both 'I'm sorry' and the word that preceeded it. Luke Triton _was _Kayn's grandfather - but was not anymore.

There was complete and utter silence for at least a minute - a minute that seemed to last forever - before Flora wiped away a tear that neither Kayn or Jem had seen. Her hands were freckled and shaking from a combination of the clearly upsetting news and the simple fact of her old age. Eventually, she sniffed and looked up at the two of them, before she called out, her voice strained and shaken.

"Violet?"

Violet peered around the door, smiling. "Yes?"

"Have you offered these boys a cup of tea?"

Little was said between the three of them until approxiately six minutes later, as Violet left the room a second time, having brought them a cup of tea each, tellig them she'd be going into town. Flora took a sip before setting it down on the end table beside her. Kayn couldn't help but notice her eyes were pinker now.

"When did it happen?", she asked eventually, visibly upset by the news.

"A month ago."

Flora shook her head, Kayn beating himself inside for not realising - not even thinking - that this news would be so devastating for her. He had somehow missed the possibility that Flora had not seen Luke since all those years ago, that this would be like losing that 18-year-old boy all over again.

"I never heard from him," she started, in a voice that warbled and sounded as though she would sob, "I never heard from him in seventy years but I never stopped loving that man..."

"We understand that you and Luke were close," Jem told her, almost questioning the fact, prompting a want for more information, "Were you two... were you in a relationship?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head, sadly, "Not a relationship, as such. But I loved him, I was in love with him. He had told me he felt completely mutually. But then he left, just left without telling me... I never heard from him again. How could he have loved me? How could he have possibly left if he was honest with me?"

"We found a letter from him, addressed to you," Kayn told her, unfolding the piece of paper before handing it to her, "He never sent this, but it's clear that he cared for you a great deal."

Flora read the letter silently, watched by Jem and Kayn. This time, tears could not be hidden. The words were an echo in Flora's mind - echoes of Luke, echoes of the life she once lived. What a difference he had made to her, in being there and, even more so, in leaving.

Kayn's eyes were set inside his mug, but Jem watched intently as Flora folded up the letter, running her finger over it's frayed edges.

"Luke...", she sighed, "Why did he never send it?! Even just to hear from him... I was miserable for so long and I couldn't fill the void that he'd left behind. That boy was everything to me. I thought it was my fault, I have always maintained that I forced him to leave."

"What makes you think so?", Kayn asked, curiously. Flora looked up at them, a flush of guilt about her. It was clear that Flora genuinely believed what she had said.

"I hurt him so much... it was a betrayal, of sorts. I never intended to hurt him, but I never intended to end up in the situation in the first instance... days later, he was gone. My Luke, the boy I loved. And I drove him away."

"If you don't mind me asking," Kayn began, carefully, gently, "We were hoping you could... shed some light on why he left. Only if you're happy to say so, Mrs James, but I'm trying to find out as much about grandfather's life in London as I can. He told me nothing."

"What? Nothing?"

"Nothing."

Flora looked thoughtfully at the both of us.

"It has been so long since I have spoken about Luke," she started, smiling faintly, "I would be honoured to tell you all I know about him. Your grandfather was an amazing man, and he was loved by so many people."

"I'd be more than happy to listen. I have so many questions about him. I don't even know how he came into Mr. Layton's care."

Flora took another sip of tea.

"I should start from the beginning then, shall I?"

"If that's fine."

Flora acknowledged approval of this by continuing to speak.

"I was the Mr Layton's - _Hershel's _- adopted daughter. I moved to London when your grandfather and I were both fifteen, Luke had lived with him a lot longer. He was, I suppose, Hershel's adopted son."

"What happened to his parents?"

"Luke's? He never told you?"

"As I said, he never told me anything about his childhood. These are all things that I'm hearing for the first time. All I have is the dates that they both passed away."

Flora seemed surprised by the lack of information imparted onto Kayn by his grandfather - the Luke that she knew, and loved, was most certainly a storyteller.

"Well, Hershel was good friends with Luke's mother and they'd kept in touch, even when she'd married and moved away, so he'd known the family for years. But she passed away when Luke was nine. Hershel kept visiting Clark - your great grandfather - to check he was coping. He'd lost a girlfriend a few months earlier so he knew, on some scale, what Clark was going through."

Clark Triton, Kayn remembered, was the reason that he was so interested to know how Luke came to be an adopted child. The fact that he had lived throughout Luke's childhood and yet was seemingly absent had struck Kayn as being rather strange.

"But that doesn't explain how grandad fell into Mr Layton's care..."

Mrs James-Reinhold sighed, the memory clearly rough to repeat, even though it wasn't a memory she'd had first hand. It was almost as though she'd kept the memory on Luke's behalf.

"Hershel visited Clark to help with a case that needed investigation, but while he was there, he noticed Luke was distant and dazed... lost, I suppose. He also noticed that Luke had marks all over his body."

"Marks?"

"Bruises. Clark couldn't cope with him, but he'd taken it out on Luke himself rather than asking for help."

"He... beat him?!"

"Yes. Hershel was furious, he took it up with Clark as soon as Luke admitted it to him, and Clark... well... he tried to explain that he was regretful, guilty, but knew deep down that there was no telling whether or not he would hit him again. He asked Hershel to take him away from him on that same day."

Kayn and Jem were shellshocked. No wonder Tea had kept his childhood so clouded - the memories must have been so painful.

"Hershel raised Luke from then on. From the age of nine to eighteen."

"In London?"

"Yes," she started, "As I said, I moved there when I was fifteen. Luke and I became close very quickly. The village I grew up in was rather... well, let's say I didn't have a lot in common with the 'children' I grew up with. I'd never had friends before. As it happened, neither had your grandfather, since he'd just never been very sociable. He'd always preferred solving puzzles."

"He loved puzzles," Kayn agreed, smiling, "And he passed that down to me."

"Tell me about it, he's always trying to get me to do Sukodo."

"Sudoku, Jem."

"If I can't pronounce it, Kayn, I certainly can't solve one."

Flora laughed at the sight of the two of them, sharing this joke of an argument. "He never was one to change! I'm sure he was proud to see you take after him, Kayn."

"I hope so," he smiled, before moving back to the initial matter, "So... you were saying, you two got close?"

"We became the best of friends, but it was never really as clear cut as that. I can't deny I liked him from when I first met him, but it wasn't really until we turned sixteen that it became anything more. Eventually, I loved him, I thought about him all the time, and it absolutely got on my nerves... can you imagine feeling that strongly for someone and having to live, eat, spend that much time with them? I couldn't stand it."

Jem nodded - he had known that feeling. The first real confirmation to himself that he wasn't exactly a ladies' man came when he was fifteen and his sister had left for university for three years. Catherine decided to make use of the now spare room by advertising for a lodger, hoping that the extra rent would boost the family's income. Two weeks later, Jem found himself living with a nineteen-year-old music student named Hadley. He liked Hadley. He liked Hadley a lot. What he didn't like was having to eat, live and spend time with Hadley - who often brought his girlfriend over, much to Jem's dismay.

He could distinctly remember Catherine working the whole thing out and cuddling him one night, telling him he was still her little boy, even if he was 'drooling over the male lodger'. That was fine, but he was a little miffed when she told him 'you've always been a bit of a pansy, anyway, Jeremy'. That was Catherine, though - in fact, that was the entire Proctor family - everything was accepted with a joke, because smiling was most needed when smiling was difficult.

In the end, he just accepted that he lived with Hadley, and that was the way things were, so he persevered. Two years later, he'd met a boy on his law course who felt the same way as he did - Kayn was worth a thousand Hadleys, Jem had decided.

"So, what happened?", Jem asked her. Flora sighed.

"I found out two years later that he felt exactly the same."

"Oh... isn't that a good thing?"

Flora looked down at her lap, Kayn sensing a window to ask the question that had been on his mind since it had risen.

"Mrs James, can I ask you something? And I... please, tell me if I'm out of line, but something in that letter... my grandfather talks about a baby. You and the baby?"

Flora shook her head, but allowed him to ask.

"Did you have a baby? Back then, I mean."

Flora nodded.

"Kayn," she started, "And you, Jem - I need you both to understand that I have never told another soul - the only one's who ever knew were Hershel, Emmy and Luke. Please, you musn't allow anyone to find out. It would shatter her world if she knew."

"Who's world?" Jem asked.

"Violet's."

_I knew it_, Kayn thought. _I knew she was Flora's._

"I had her when I was nineteen, but you need to know, it wasn't like it is now. I mean, a girl having a child at such a young age now, it's not liked, but it's accepted. In my time, it was diffierent. I was so ashamed."

"What did you do?"

"I... I told Luke. That was the first thing I did, it would have always been the first thing I did. He had no idea what to do. He urged me to tell the professor, told me he'd be with me when I did... he wasn't. He had left by then. I was so alone. Carrying a baby and the only person in the world who knew had left me."

"I can't believe he'd do that..." Kayn told her, honestly. Flora shook her head.

"He deserved to be able to react that way. I put him through so much."

"But never anything like that!"

"No, but... there's only so far you can push a person. Eventually, I realised I had to face the reality of what I had done, and I told the professor and Emmy."

"And what happened?"

"They told me they would help me in any way they could. I was so thankful to have them, they were the most wonderful people... they came to understand and that understanding turned to support. When it finally came to it, I was sure that I wanted to give up the baby for adoption, but I felt like I would have been failing Violet if I just... sent her off... so we came up with the idea that they should raise the baby. Hershel and Emmy. They raised her, and they did the most amazing job."

Flora seemed to smile over at one of the photographs - a photograph of the professor and his wife, along with a young girl and two young boys.

"She was happy, the whole family was happy - including me," she told them, adding, "Far happier than they would have been if raising Violet had been left to me. Just me, alone, at nineteen, attempting to find my way as a parent."

"But you shouldn't have been alone," Kayn told her, "Luke should have been with you, shouldn't he?"

"Why?", she asked, "Why should he have had to cut off his life to look out for me?"

"Well, if he had a kid, he sh-"

"Wait, what?", she interrupted, "Oh, no! No! Violet wasn't his baby. Your grandad wasn't the father."

"What?"

Kayn and Jem, by this point, were considerably confused.

"I had no idea that Luke felt the same way for me as I did for him," she explained, "So I eventually resigned myself to the fact that I was nothing more than a friend to him. Then I met this boy... well, I liked him, I really did, and he asked if I would like to see him sometime, for a walk or maybe to go dancing."

"Things were different in those days, then," Jem observed, "For our first date, Kayn took me for a chicken, beef and doner kebab."

Flora laughed, having realised the two were a couple just a few moments into their conversation. "An old romantic like your grandfather then?"

"Hmm.", Kayn hummed, unamused, shooting Jem a look of daggers. Flora took the opportunity to continue.

"Anyway, we began seeing each other regularly, and before long... well, I have to say I'd fallen for him. It wasn't as if all feelings for Luke had vanished - in fact, I probably still had stronger feelings for him, but I did love this boy. Then, one day, he was so upset... he was devastated after something had happened within his family and I'd been to comfort him. One thing... one thing just led to another. That was my first time... you have no idea how much I regretted it."

"And then you found out you were expecting Violet?"

"Well, I'd use the word 'expecting' loosely. A baby was the last thing I was expecting. I was shocked when I found out. I told him - the father - he told me he wanted nothing to do with me or her. Said he'd lost interest in me a long time ago. He was like a different person to the one I knew, I felt so stupid for falling for the 'nice guy' act. But Luke... Luke really was a nice guy. I told him, and he comforted me, promised he'd be there for me. He said he'd be with me no matter what."

"But then he left."

"A few days later, yes. My last memory of him is the night before he left. We had a conversation and he said some strange things. He was so apologetic, asked me to reassure him that I would not forget him, that I would do the right thing for the child... I didn't know... I didn't know why until the next morning. I realised when I woke up and he was gone."

Kayn couldn't quite believe it. Fair enough, things had not been as bad as he had thought they may be - Violet was not Luke's, he had not abandoned Flora when she was having his child - but he had still deserted her. He had still promised to be there for her and then left without warning. He had never had his grandfather down as the sort of man who would do such a thing.

"Those were the worst months of my life," she continued, "I lost my body, I lost my life... but none of that compared to how it felt to lose him. I kept wishing inside that she had been his... if it were his baby, he wouldn't have left, and we might have raised her ourselves. Of course, it would still be difficult and people would still not accept it, but Luke had a way of making you feel like everything on Earth was fine just by being near you."

In that moment, there was simply silence. What could possibly have been said? It was a few minutes before Jem eventually spoke up.

"What... what happened afterwards?"

"It was as I said," she started, "The professor and Emmy agreed to raise the baby. They had started a relationship around the same time, and by the time Violet was born, they were engaged. Everyone thought she was their's, of course. Some of them looked down on the two of them for having a baby outside of marriage, but they went with the story that they had been married in secret months before. I was surprised people believed them. When they really did get married a year later, nobody even thought it to be strange, just thought they were renewing their vows. They had two other sons, Toby and Alex. I married a man I worked with... we separated after the war but never divorced legally, I didn't need to. I never found anyone else. I never heard from Luke again."

Kayn and Jem were astounded - astounded and saddened. Flora had lead such a sheltered life, not to mention a lonely one. Her only child was born when she was alone and too young, the only boy she ever truly loved had disappeared without trace, she had been legally bound to a man she didn't care for her whole adult life... and now she was alone, now she relied on her brothers and sister - a sister who didn't realise that she wasn't Flora's sister at all.

And it all came down to him. It all came down to Luke leaving.

It was like she said - if Violet had been Luke's, they would have raised her themselves. They would have been together, happy. Things would have been so perfect.

Why did he leave? As much as this put his mind, somewhat, at rest, it explained nothing to Kayn. All it did was show what a mess it had made of a woman's life when Luke disappeared.

Flora spoke with Kayn and Jem for well over an hour, until it was getting late enough that Kayn wondered if he would even get back to Dorset before morning. It was only when Flora noticed Jem falling asleep in his chair that she suggested it was probably time that they went their separate ways for the time being.

Kayn nudged Jem, waking him a little more as they prepared to leave.

"It's been a real honour to meet you, Flora," he told her, "And if I find anymore letters or... well, _anything_ that can connect you to my grandfather, I'll make sure you see it. I don't think he ever forgot you, you know."

"I never forgot him, either."

Well, that was obvious already.

They said their goodbyes and went to leave, before being interrupted by Flora as they reached the door.

"Kayn," she started, "Was he happy in the end? Was he happy after he had left?"

Kayn nodded.

"He met a woman. Jillian. They had a daughter called Susan and Susan met a man called Harry and they had me."

"What about Susan? Where is she now?"

Kayn sighed. "In all honesty, Flora, I don't know. She left me as a baby and my dad raised me with my grandparents. But he's gone now, too. I'm pretty much the only member of my family left."

Flora looked sympathetic, but pointed out something more.

"You have Jem. You both have each other and you must hold on to that."

"Believe me," he smiled, "I will."

Jem smiled at Kayn and took hold of his hand, as Flora made her final remark before they left.

"You're a lot like him, Kayn. He must have been so proud."

That, to Kayn, was his most favourite thing to hear.

_**-o-**_

"Jem? Jem, we're hom- oh."

Kayn couldn't help but smile as he caught sight of Jem, leaned up against the car window asleep. He was the sort of person who still managed to look attractive snoozing away with his mouth open.

"Jem?"

"Mmm?" he mumbled, stirring.

"We're back, we need to get out of the car."

Jem rubbed his eyes, eventually sitting up in his seat and smiling over at Kayn. He wasn't the sort of boy who took a long time to wake up, and his mind was immediately back to Flora.

"She was really nice, wasn't she?"

"Yeah. She was lovely."

Jem analysed Kayn's expression for a while. He was thoughtful, he was almost distant.

"What is it?"

"She waited," Kayn stated, miffed, "She waited all those years. She never got over losing him."

"Your grandad was a pretty unforgettable guy. You know that more than most."

Kayn couldn't help but feel as though he'd seen a sad sight that day. Jem was right, he absolutely was - she was a wonderful woman - but she was so lonely. She had spent her whole life recovering, waiting, forgetting - or attempting to. Her life had effectively ended at eighteen because she let the man she loved slip through her fingers.

He wasn't going to let the same happen to him.

"Move in with me."

"What?"

Kayn turned to a rather shocked Jem, wondering to himself why he had decided to ask Jem to move in with him like that... it wasn't even asking, really. It was more like a demand. A demand that he had spat out like mouldy food.

"I meant," Kayn started, taking a deep breath and pulling himself back together, "I meant, Jeremy Proctor, would you like to move in with me?"

"Wh- why?"

"Because I love you and I don't want to lose you and my house is lonely now there's just me. There's nobody else I'd rather share it with than you, Jem."

Jem wasn't sleepy anymore - he was wide awake and had a billion thoughts rushing his mind like Monday morning commuters.

"You're sure this isn't just the long drive home speaking?"

"Jem," Kayn sighed, "It most definitely isn't the long drive home. I'm not drunk, I'm not tired, it's not a snap decision. I've wanted to ask you for ages. I told your mum and everything."

"Wow, you must be serious, then."

The statement was made with an air of sarcasm and, for a moment, Kayn wasn't sure if he was even going to accept his offer.

"Jem, come on, it's two forty-three in the bloody morning, I'm in my car having driven to London and back to Dorset and I'd really like to get to bed."

"Ah, so you _are_ tired!"

"Jem!"

Jem laughed, revelling in how easy it was to wind Kayn up.

"Of course I'll move in with you, you idiot!"

"Really? Jem, thank you!"

"Don't thank me, you don't know if I'll be difficult to live with yet!"

"I don't care!", Kayn laughed, "It makes no difference to me whether you're Anthea Turner or have the cleaning skills of a kid and I don't give a toss if you're the most difficult guy on Earth to live with - I love you, and I'm glad we're doing this."

"Same. To everything you just said. Especially the 'I love you' bit."

It was then that Kayn made a suggestion that sounded perfect to the both of them.

"Come on, then. Let's get into _our _house."

_**-o-**_

**It's Saturday and this is late and I'm sorry omg D:**

**My only excuse is that I spent too much time reading this week... I got a new copy of To Kill A Mockingbird, and couldn't really put it down. It's my favourite book... which is probably why it got a mention in chapter 2 and why one of the characters is named after a character from the book :P**

**I hope this is good! Please review! Thank you so much for your reviews so far, it means a lot to me :)**

**And don't forget, you can follow me on twitter at oatniel! I'll follow back, of course :D**

**I'll see you next week :P  
Bethany x**


	8. Chapter 7

**Grandfather's Clock**

_**1936**_

Emmy was relieved to find that the professor was gone when she arrived at her usual workplace. She had prepared herself for the questioning, the awkward conversation, the badgering her to explain what she had left unsaid yesterday - she had spent the whole journey over preparing herself. However, she was hoping the preparation would be surplus to requirement, and allowed herself a sigh of relief when she found that it was.

_Luke and Flora,  
I've gone to the office for some things. I'll see you in a while._

Emmy set the note back down on the mantlepiece where she had found it, before setting to find the belongings that she had left at the professor's home the previous week. However, she did not go undisturbed for very long at all, as Luke made his way downstairs.

Luke looked visibly bothered by something as he padded along the hallway, having seen Emmy as he descended the staircase. He entered the living room in a way that could be mistaken only for the behaviour of the walking dead, and gave Emmy a look to match.

"Didn't expect to see you here."

"I have to pick up some belongings."

Luke shrugged and made his way into the kitchen as Emmy continued speaking.

"He told you, then," she guessed, "That I'm leaving."

Emmy leaned against the kitchen doorframe on her shoulder and watched Luke go about his normal morning routine - or a slightly more lethargic variation of what she knew to be Luke's normal morning routine.

"He mentioned it. He was devastated, you know."

"He'll cope."

"I don't think he will."

"I'm not dead, Luke, I've just got a new job."

"You've got a new job?", a voice enquired from behind her. "Since when?"

"I... you didn't know?"

"No," Flora stated, "I had no idea."

Emmy and Flora stared at one another for a moment, as if both were awaiting an explanation, though it was only Flora who was owed one. Luke, in the meantime, looked as though he existed in a universe where he was the only resident and was surrounded by his problems.

"Emmy, you're not leaving, are you?", she asked, bluntly. Emmy nodded. "Why?"

"It's just something I have to do."

"What?"

Flora looked to Luke, who appeared to have tuned out of anything going on around him, before she led Emmy into the living room and closed the door behind them.

"Emmy," she started, looking her straight in the eye, only to have her friend look away, "You know you can talk to me, don't you? You know you can tell me things and I'll do my best to help?"

"Yes."

"So... why? Why are you leaving and why is this so sudden?"

"I just need to leave. It isn't sudden," Emmy debated, "I've known I was going to do this for a long time."

"And you said nothing."

"I just... I didn't want to upset you," she told her, "Or Luke."

"And the professor?"

"Well, yes, that goes without saying."

Flora pursed her lips and let out an audibly irritated sigh. Emmy didn't seem to care very much at all about what this would do to them, despite the fact that she had told her otherwise.

"Emmy, you can't leave!" It may have been a statement, but Flora was pleading. "We're a team - the four of us! We're a- well, we're a family, aren't we?"

Emmy couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable at the final section of the speech. _A family_... no. And it hadn't escaped her attention that Flora didn't seem entirely comfortable with the notion, either.

"Listen, I'm not happy with this, either-"

"Then don't go!"

"Flora!", Emmy shouted, annoyed by the interruption, trying once again to explain, "I'm not happy with this, either, but I'll be better off away from here."

"Oh, come on, Emmy, whatever it is that's making you want to leave, it won't help if you actually do."

"You don't understand," Emmy told her, "And I'm not asking you to understand, Flora, I'm just asking for you to accept that I'm going."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I love you! We all do!"

_Sure_, Emmy thought, _All of you._

"Flora, _please_ - just please stop it. I love the three of you, too, but please let me do this."

Flora sighed, before simply staring for a moment - then she held up her hands, clearly giving in.

"Fine. Fine, whatever."

"Flora, don't-"

"What?", Flora asked, "You expect me to be fine with this? I can accept it, I can listen to all your 'I need a new start, this isn't good enough' rubbish, but I'm not going to applaud you, am I?"

Emmy didn't really know how to respond, and Flora quite obviously wasn't done talking anyway.

"It doesn't matter how you dress this up, you're still leaving and you still haven't told me why."

"I don't want to explain."

"Tough fact, isn't it? I don't want to lose one of my best friends but I'm still going to."

Emmy had never seen Flora this way, but she had believed Luke when he had mentioned that she was acting differently - this was, however, the first that she'd seen of it herself. She was frustrated, angry, hurt (though she couldn't see that Emmy felt very much the same), and was showing it fully. What was there to be done, though? She knew she needed to do this, needed to cut the ties and go, but it did, admittedly, make her feel awful. For them and for herself.

"Emmy, whatever this is, however bad you think it is, nothing can force you to leave us and none of us want to lose you and I can't understand why you're acting as though it isn't a big deal, because it reall-"

"Shut up, Flora!", she told the girl, choking up on tears that fell seconds later. "Just shut up a minute."

In the end, Emmy acted on autopilot and pulled Flora to her, into a tight hug.

Emmy very much expected Flora to push her away and ask her why on Earth she felt that grabbing her and ordering her to be quiet would make the situation even the tiniest little bit better, but Flora accepted the embrace with little protest.

"I don't want you to go," Flora cried into Emmy's shoulder, "Especially not now. I think you're the only one that would understand..."

"Understand what?"

"Not 'understand' but just... Emmy, please don't leave me now."

"You're not making any sense, Flora."

"Neither are you!"

"Well... should we just accept that neither of us want to provide explanations?"

Flora pulled away, tears leaving marks on her cheeks, shaking her head.

"No, because it doesn't make any sense... if something is so bad that you have to leave suddenly and keep it from the three of us... are you in trouble?"

Emmy smiled, wiping the tears from her friend's cheeks and attempting to reassure her.

"No," she told her, "No, there's not trouble, Flora. Please don't think that there's trouble."

"Then why? Why, Emmy?"

"Oh, Flora, please stop asking!"

But Flora would not stop asking. She was angry, and angered further by Emmy avoiding the questions.

"I don't know why you can't say! I don't know how you can leave me and Luke, leave the _professor_-"

"Because I can't be around him anymore!", Emmy shouted, frustration clear in her eyes. Flora just stared, etched in confusion, silently asking that same question of 'why?', prompting elaboration from her. "You have no idea how much I do not want to go, but I can't stay here anymore. Honestly, I can't."

"I don't- I don't understand, Emmy. What does it have to do with him?"

Emmy just decided it was better to say.

"I have loved him for so long, Flora, and it's gotten to the point where every day simply-"

"Wait," Flora interrupted, "Am I getting this right? You're leaving because you're in love with the professor?"

The look on Flora's face explained exactly what she thought of this - and she thought it was ridiculous. Emmy immediately jumped to her own defence, determined to make her see that this was not the solution she would have wanted but was, ultimately, the only way. That was how she had thought of things, anyway.

Leave. Just run away. Run away from it and it won't chase you around.

"You don't understand, Flora."

"What is there to understand?! That's such a petty, teenage problem and you're using it as an excuse to-"

"It's no excuse, Flora!", she argued, "Do you think I haven't realised how stupid this is? How stupid _I am_?! But Flora, it's like... it hurts me, it hurts me so much to know it's completely one-sided. Every time he talks about Claire, every time he calls me his 'assistant'-"

"You_ are _his assistant, but he tells you all the time that you're more than that to him, you're one of his closest friends!"

"And you think that being one of his closest friends is any better?!", she asked, requiring no answer, "You think that being close friends is any sort of comfort to you when you feel that way about someone, maybe you should ask Luke!"

"What are you talking about now?! This isn't about Luk-"

"Oh, come on, as if you haven't noticed! He's been so obviously in love with you for the past three years and look at you, you don't even notice, and if you did, you wouldn't care!"

"Don't talk rubbish, Emmy."

"I'm not! You never even notice what's going on around you, Flora!"

"This is about you leaving, not about me and what I do or don't notice!"

"Don't change the subject!"

"In case you've not noticed, this _isn't_ the subject, this isn't about Luke and I!", she shouted, pulling the argument full circle to where they had started, "Emmy, what the hell are you going to do in life if the way you fix your problems is by running away from them?"

"Are you even_ trying _to listen?"

"I've heard you and I think you're being ridiculous!" Flora declared, now visibly furious at Emmy's excuse for leaving. How could she leave because of that? How _could _she?! "Emmy, you can't just disappear off the face of the Earth because he doesn't feel the same, you can't run away from that just like I can't run away from my problems!"

"You don't even _have _problems!"

Flora stared for a moment before wiping her tears away and giving Emmy a look that could be described only as a 'death glare'.

"Flora-" Emmy started, apologetically, but her younger friend did not want to hear it. Not one bit.

"You can do what you want, right? You leave, then, you go. That's not what you really want, is it? You want what you can't have and it kills you so you settle for the next best option and you'll only hurt yourself more in the end."

"Thanks, Advice Master, but what would you know about that? About wanting what you can't have, settling for the next best option?"

"More than you know, Emmy, and it's gotten me into trouble I can't get out of."

"You're practically a child, Flora, so don't feed me nonsense like that - you've no idea."

It was at this point that Luke opened the door, somehow not at all bothered by the arguement going on in the living room, as though he was expecting it. His face told them immediately that he had not come to stop them, either.

"I'm going out. I'll leave you two to it."

Luke was quick to leave but was followed by Flora, who stopped him at the door.

"Luke, wait."

"What?"

Flora, try as she might, could not quite find the right words, but she didn't want him to leave. Not now. She'd grown tired of people leaving her.

"Where are you going?"

"It's nothing really to do with you, Flora."

"Luke, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he told her, unconvincingly, "I need to go."

"Luke!"

"Flora," he started, opening the front door, "I'll speak to you later, alright? I have things to do and you and Emmy need to sort things out between the two of you. Goodbye."

Luke left without anything else being said, as Flora was given no opportunity for response. Silence befell the house, Flora stood at the front door, just still. Emmy looked at her from the doorway of the living room, wondering what purpose Flora felt she was fulfilling by being there, never moving.

But yet, Emmy was cold to whatever it was. All she wanted to do now was leave - perhaps leaving altogether was still something she had decided to do for sensibility and not because she particularly wanted to, but, in that moment, she_ did _want to leave the house, leave Flora.

"I suppose I should go.", Emmy stated - Flora turned, immediately, her eyes sore and somewhat glistening.

"Emmy... Emmy, I'm sorry for what I said but please... don't do this."

"Flora-"

"Emmy, don't go! Don't leave me right now and don't leave your job here, please just- please don't leave me!"

Flora was growing hysterical and Emmy was without knowledge of how to react - she had quite honestly never seen this side to the girl she thought she knew so well.

"Flora, why are you making this so hard for me?!"

"Because you're leaving and Luke's leaving and I just need _someone_!"

"Please, Flora, calm down..."

Emmy moved over to Flora, pulling her over to the staircase and sitting down next to her on the third step up.

"Flora, what is this? Because, look at you... this about more than just me and Luke."

Flora was sniffling as though the tears were stopping, but they clearly were not. Emmy put her arm and around her friend's shoulder, Flora settling against her, tears dropping from her cheeks and onto Emmy's clothing.

"I'm not leaving you, Flora, I'm just leaving this job. And I know it's ridiculous, I know my reason for leaving is no good, but please... it hurts me to be here. It's not his fault, Flora, but it does. It doesn't mean you and I are any different. You know how much I love you, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then you know that this won't change anything between you and I."

"It won't?"

"I promise," she assured her, "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"I'm really sorry... I'm really, really sorry."

"Whatever for?"

Flora just cried, saying nothing, and Emmy eventually accepted that she would earn no explanation by asking, so she simply kept herself and Flora in the same way for a while, Flora lying against her, calmer after a while. It was no more than three minutes later that Emmy decided that this could be best solved in the way they solved everything - with a cup of tea - but just as they made their way into the kitchen, they were interrupted by the ringing of the phone in the hallway.

"I'll get that," Flora told her, walking through to the phone and picking it up, "Hello?"

The news on the other end of the line brought sickness to Flora's stomach - and Emmy could see the change in Flora's expression. Something was wrong.

"What?!... Oh my god... Is he alright?!... Hospital? Yes, yes, we'll be right there!... No, we'll be there right away... goodbye."

Flora put the phone down and covered her mouth with both her hands, clearly distressed.

"Flora?! Flora, what's wrong?!", Emmy called, running in. Flora grabbed her coat from the hanger on the wall and handed Emmy's to her as she did.

"It's the professor, he's collapsed!"

"What?!"

"That was Rosa, he's been taken to hospital but he just... he was out cold!"

"Oh my god... we need to get there!"

"He left the car here this morning, you can drive!"

Emmy nodded, grabbing the car keys from the shelf by the door, before they both rushed out. They had both noticed there had been something wrong with him recently, but they didn't know what it was or that it was this bad.

_**-o-**_

Luke removed his cap and shook his hand through his hair as he entered the library, drops of the unstopping rain being shaken around him.

"Excuse me," a librarian hissed, in an angry whisper, "Would you mind _not_ bringing the bad weather in with you?! Or I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Oh... I'm sorry." Luke waited until she had looked away before moving from the library's doorway, noticing seconds later that he needed to speak to the librarian at reception anyway. "E- excuse me?"

"What now?"

"Well, I... do you know where I can find old newspapers?"

The librarian sighed, irritated, before replying. "Upstairs, by the maps. They're organised from least to most recent, going from 1879."

"Do you have any from 1926?"

This librarian had taken a clear dislike to Luke. "If they're going from 1879, least to most recent, do_ you _think we have newspapers from 1926?"

"Yes...?"

"Yes. We have newspapers from 1926."

"Thank you very much," Luke nodded, turning away to leave, before turning back, "Oh, and... I'm sorry for... well, for the rain on the carpet..."

"Good. That's why I told you about it. That'll take over an hour to dry, thanks to you."

Luke saw no point in continuing his conversation with this somewhat insufferable woman, so he took to finding the newspaper archive. It didn't take him too long to find the newspapers from 1926, but it did take him much longer to sift through a year's worth of editions of _London Today. _However, he eventually found the sort of thing he was looking for - the box labelled _London Today, July 1926 _was full of newspapers reporting the most shocking story that month. Details of the murder of Corneil Bridgely.

The newspaper released on July 14th 1926 held the first breaking of the story.

_LONDON PROFESSOR MURDERED _

_A London university professor has been found dead in his office, in circumstances being treated as suspicious by Scotland Yard._

_Corneil Bridgely, 46, was found in the early hours of Monday morning by his assistant, Jaqueline Corey. Corey called police to the office at London's Gressenheller University where he was pronounced dead - tragically, on the day of his youngest son's birthday._

_No statement has been made by the family yet, but a spokesperson has told journalists that they are requesting privacy in this difficult time._

After that, Luke read through many others, eventually coming to the edition published on July 26th... and that was the one that really picked his interest.

_POLICE WIDEN INVESTIGATION AFTER VICTIM'S DOUBLE LIFE DISCOVERED_

_Police investigating the murder of Corneil Bridgely, the university lecturer killed earlier this month, are reported to be taking up over thirteen new leads after finding sordid details of the victim's secret life among his possessions._

_It was discovered from documents concealed in the victim's office that Bridgely had been involved with several women outside of his wife over a period of twenty years, even fathering three illegitimate children during these affairs. His secretary, Jaqueline Corey, is reported to have been taken into questioning after admitting to a year-long affair with the victim - which, she claims, ended just days before she found him murdered._

_Inspector Kerrick Lennox, the Scotland Yard detective leading the investigation, released a statement yesterday regarding this news, in which he explained: "It is true that we are investigating a number of new possibilities after some rather incriminating details have come to light. It appears that the victim had a criminal past of his own, and we are investigating the possibility that this was a revenge crime."_

_Lennox went on to state that the late Bridgely is being investigated on suspicion of three counts of assault, including one in which a female's injuries caused her to miscarry a child. He even harboured a potential connection to Sally May Layton, 23, who, we reported at the time, was found unconcious at her home last month, hours after she reportedly told a friend that she felt she was in 'severe danger' at the hands of a man she knew. Layton is thought to have been taught by Bridgely at the university, along with Rebecca Jennings, 37, who claimed last week that she romped with the victim in his first year of working at the establishment when she was just 21._

Sally May Layton?

Luke's eyes widened. There it was. Another potential connection.

These were such tenuous links, but they were links nonetheless! Bridgely worked at Gressenheller in the professor's department, he had been investigated for crimes against a woman named Sally May _Layton_... and, on top of all this, Luke knew that the professor had been unrecognisably different recently.

He had never heard of Sally May Layton, but there must have been a connection here. This couldn't all be coincidental.

Luke read over the paragraph again, searching out any details that could provide even the smallest indication as to who this woman was...

_He even harboured a potential connection to Sally May Layton, 23, who, we reported at the time, was found unconcious at her home last month, hours after she reportedly told a friend that she felt she was in 'severe danger' at the hands of a man she knew._

'Last month'.

Luke went back to the archives and pulled out another box, this time labelled 'June 1926'. It wasn't long before he found what he was looking for - the incident involving Sally May Layton had been front page news on June 5th.

The story had been covered well, and included a quote from Miss Layton's brother who wished to stress that she was now recovering in hospital.

Miss Layton's brother, Hershel Layton.

Luke pushed the paper away from him and slipped further into the wooden chair of the desk he was sitting at, throwing his head back and staring up at the dirtied ceiling of the St. Thomas Aquinas Library's 'archives of London' department. He wasn't sure what to think anymore - his mind had become alive with the various things he had discovered, the various theories he had created, the various worries he had for the state of those around him. His hands were shaking and his face felt warm and itching. He was decidedly exhausted.

If it wasn't the professor and his worrying behaviour - which was putting Luke increasingly on edge, as the whole backstory seemed to be becoming worse and worse - or Emmy and her sudden decision to leave behind the life she had crafted for herself over the past five years, then it was his disappointment over the way things had become with Flora. As strange as it seemed when he put the three into perspective, it had been his feelings for Flora bothering him the most... this, however, seemed to shift his worries into new order. Whatever he felt regarding the current situation with Flora - heartbreak or otherwise - the things he had uncovered in the past hour took centre stage now.

The professor was connected to this man by his job and his sister - a sister Luke had never even heard of before now - but it didn't quite make sense that these events affected the professor so much that the arrest of Bridgely's killer changed him completely in the past few days.

Luke looked up at the clock on the library wall before rubbing his eyes as if rubbing away the frustrations he felt at that moment. He had been gone a while. His mind shifted back to Flora for a moment... perhaps he had left too hastily that morning. He had been aware that Flora and Emmy were in the middle of a rather heated argument - he had cited wanting them to solve it as a reason for him to leave - but there was something else. She looked so desperate when she asked him to stay. She had something to tell him. She clearly had something to tell him.

It was one thing after another and Luke was breaking under the pressure of the secrets that he knew were being kept from him.

Luke took a breath in and packed away the newspapers after one final look, before picking up his satchel and getting up from the desk. He needed to get out of here, he needed to think. He needed to talk to the professor and to Emmy and to Flora and to make sure they knew that he wasn't going to have secrets kept from him any longer.

_**-o-**_

The walk home was cold and wet and something of a daze, but it gave him chance to think, so he silenced the part of him that thought it was mad to walk home in the wind and (thankfully slowing) rain when he had his bus fare, and then some, chiming together in his pocket. Luke knew that getting on a crowded bus that smelled of damp hair and clothing didn't quite have the same opportunities for thought that walking home did, and those were opportunities that he knew to take full advantage of so that he could at least _attempt_ to decipher the situation.

It was twenty-three minutes before he reached his front door, surprised to find it locked. Luke knocked, before crouching down and propping open the letter-hatch, looking through the small space at the porch on the other side of the door.

"Flora?", he shouted, "Flora, are you in there?"

Luke heard the living room door opening and pulled himself up to stand eye-level with the somewhat useless peephole in front of him. He could make out the shape of someone on the other side - but he knew instantly that it wasn't Flora.

"Luke!", Mr McGerrity from two doors down exclaimed, looking nervous at the sight of the boy in front of him, "Luke, I've been waiting here for you!"

"What's wrong?!", Luke asked him, sensing immediately that all was not right.

"I don't want you to worry," he started, ironically worrying Luke a whole lot more, anxiety knotting itself up his stomach as the situation was explained to him, "But the professor has been taken ill and Flora-"

"Taken ill?!", Luke echoed, shocked, "What do you mean, 'taken ill'?!"

"I don't know what happened, but Flora and Emmy told me to wait here for you and then take you to the hospital!"

"Hospital? He's in hospital? Oh my god, is it that serious?!"

"I'm sorry, Luke, I don't know, I wish I could put your mind at rest - as I said, I'll drive you to the hospital."

Luke nodded, turning immediately and setting himself straight towards the car parked in front of Mr McGerrity's house. Forget his problems, his stress, his bloody _ridiculous _feelingsfor Flora - the man he had come to see as his father was in hospital, sick, sick enough for Flora and Emmy to rush out on the house and leave a stranger to wait for him. That was what was important now - the rest could wait.

The hospital was not too far from his home, but the journey in the car seemed to take several forevers. He was broken. Luke had never known himself to have his life turned so many ways inside-out. Everything was changing, everything was crumbling around him - even the professor. Even the only person he ever witnessed who could come out of everything with a lesson to teach him, the only person who ever made Luke feel as though he could cope with anything, because the man himself was living proof of human power to just _deal with it_. He wasn't just a mentor to Luke, he was a modern _hero _and yet even _he_ was crumbling.

Luke was crying, and he knew it, as he made his way, absolutely frantic, through the anaesthetic, chemical-smelling corridors of the hospital, having been told where the professor was. He choked somewhat on his relief when he finally found Flora, who got up and embraced him tightly, watched by a visibly wrecked Emmy. His relief was, however, short-lived, as the realisation hit him that he still had no idea what was happening. Flora, knowing Luke like she knew the very being of herself, knew immediately to tell him.

"He collapsed at the office," she told him, "He'll be alright, but he was unconcious for an hour... they said he's suffering from exhaustion and manic anxiety."

"What?"

"They asked if he'd been under pressure recently, if anything significantly unsettling to his life had happened," Emmy started, "I think it's my fault. I think it's my fault for the way I spoke to him the other day."

Luke knew, deep down, that it must be more than that. He knew it must have been something to do with the murder case of 1926. However, he also knew that the professor had taught him not to act without consideration or fact - he had neither, and just pulled away from Flora and embraced his mentor's assistant to avoid having to explain.

"Can I talk to him?", Luke asked, eventually. Now was not the time nor place to confront him about his sister or his involvement with Bridgely, but he at least needed to know that he was jumping to the wrong conclusion... the conclusion up to that moment being that it wasn't Mr Vere that had killed Corneil Bridgely at all, and that the professor knew this himself.

Flora shook her head.

"They put him under sedatives that they use to treat exhaustion. He'll be unconcious for a while longer."

Luke sighed, removing his cap and running his hand through his thick, brown hair. What on Earth was going on? What was it about this new development in a case from ten long, long years ago that had affected the professor so _bloody _much that he had to be _drugged_ to cope?

Silence befell the three for a while, as they sat on chairs in the waiting area outside the professor's hospital room. A doctor eventually came over to explain in undecipherable jargon what Flora had already told him in terms he could actually understand, before suggesting they fetch some of the professor's belongings from home in case as they wanted to monitor his situation. Emmy nodded and, once the doctor had left them, stood up, pulling on her coat.

"Can I have your key, Flora?"

"Where are you going?", Luke asked, Emmy gesturing towards the door of the hospital room.

"Collecting some of his things. I don't feel I should be here anyway, given the situation between the professor and I at the moment. I already think I have a hand in making him this way - the least I can do is try and help."

Neither bothered to argue with her - she clearly wasn't in any state fit to hear it. It was easier for Flora to simply hand over her front door key, which Emmy put in her pocket.

"I'll be back later," Emmy told them, "Goodbye."

"Goodbye.", Luke muttered, Flora following suit seconds later.

Flora had been looking down at her lap for at least fifteen minutes, saying virtually nothing, and Luke's thoughts were woken once again. Thoughts of Flora, thoughts of things she'd said that morning. She may have hurt him, she may have not intended to hurt him but hurt him anyway... but that didn't matter. What mattered was that, despite knowing that Flora was on the arm of another boy - _Robin Bridgely_, to be painfully exact - he was still not prepared to lose her. Not at all.

"Flora."

Luke spoke her name with little plan for how to follow it up, but was at least encouraged that she turned to face him as he said it.

"Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

Flora sighed, looking up at the ceiling now. She took a sharp breath in through her nose before expelling it slowly and quietly, formulating her opinion on whether or not she was, in fact, 'alright'.

"I'm worried about him."

"No, no... I'm worried about him, too," Luke told her, shaking his head, "But... are _you_ alright?"

Flora breathed in again, but no thought followed this time. Just silence. Here was a question she knew the answer to, but would not give the answer to Luke - despite the fact her reaction spoke volumes either way.

"You've been so distant recently," he told her, "I've been worried about you. I thought you and I had sorted out our argument, hadn't we?"

"Yes?"

"So, why have you been acting like this?"

Flora, for a third time, took a breath in to speak. She had started crying silently a few minutes ago but had not noticed. Luke had noticed and decided not to mention it.

"I lied to you," Flora confessed, "I lied to you when you asked if I was hiding something from you."

"What were you hiding?"

Luke knew exactly what she was hiding, because he had seen them together. What he didn't know was the full extent of it.

"I've been seeing someone... Robin... I didn't tell you because I didn't think it was important at first... I was going to break it off with him because I just... I don't feel anything for him, Luke, and its obvious that he feels barely anything for me..."

"But?"

"But then something happened and - well, this murder case that's been in the news recently, he's the victim's son. That's why I left that day, I went to see him, to check he was okay. But he wasn't... he was so upset. And I don't love him, but he was so upset and I still cared for him and... I don't know why but I just wanted to... make him feel better. I made a mistake, I made a huge mistake..."

"What are you talking about?"

Flora was really crying now. She looked inconsolable. Luke was not surprised by the revelation that she had been so distant because she had been seeing Robin, but that was because he knew - what he didn't know was what she would say next, and he was worried. He was scared. He was hurt to look at the girl he loved so much and see her like this.

"Flora, what is it? What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry... I don't know what to do, but I need to tell you, Luke, I need to tell you..."

"Tell me what, Flora, come on, what is it?"

Flora ran a hand through the front of her hair and looked up at Luke, eyes sore and pink, the dampened patches of remaining tears surrounding them.

"I'm pregnant, Luke."

"_What_?!"

Flora looked down straight away but Luke just kept staring, saying nothing, thinking nothing, just going over it, making sure he had heard right. What?! Had she really just said that?

"Flora, you're... what? No, come on..."

"I'm sorry, it was a mista-"

"No, Flora!", Luke shouted, standing up and looking down at her, close to tears himself, "You're not, you can't be!"

"Luke, please, don't shout...", Flora pleaded, gesturing towards the other people sat on the corridors, "Just please calm down!"

"_Calm down_?! Flora, what you've just told me- how can you be sure?!"

"I went to see a doctor. I'm sure."

Luke rubbed his eyes roughly, as if he was hoping for life to be back to the way it was two weeks ago when he opened them again - the professor would be alright, Emmy would still be working for them and he would still be blissfully unaware of the things that Flora was keeping from him. Yet, in an ideal world, that still would not be enough. In an ideal world, she would be his.

But she wasn't. She wasn't, and his life was falling apart.

Luke wiped tears from his cheeks and turned around, completely thrown for what to do. He needed to just leave... he felt so trapped, so broken. He knew he shouldn't, but he _needed_ to get away.

"If he wakes up," Luke told her, "Tell him I'll be back later."

"What?"

Luke started to walk away, but Flora was insistant.

"Luke, please! Stay here, you can't go!"

"I need to get-"

"Luke, please, don't be angry!"

"Flora!", he yelled, "Just _leave me_ _alone_!"

So she did, and Luke walked away into the dark, cold London streets trying to recall just how it all went wrong.

_**-o-**_

**I AM SO, SO, **_**SO **_**SORRY.**

**This took me so long, I can't even justify it. I hope you all find that it was worth the wait, but I won't be offended if you don't... I'm disappointed with myself for taking so long with this.**

**A lot has happened this past couple of weeks though. I left school for study leave and am now bang in the middle of my GCSEs. You'd think this took me so long because I'd been revising, but I haven't been. I'm finding it all pretty damn difficult...**

_**As always, it would be really appreciated if you'd follow my YouTube, Tumblr and Twitter - all with the username oatniel! **_

_**It would be even more appreciated if you would leave me a review! I have only three chapters of this left! All reviews will be replied :)**_

**Bethany x**


	9. Notice

Hello everyone,

It's been so long since I last posted and I'm _really sorry_. I feel I should just explain now that it isn't just laziness, I genuinely can't bring myself to write. I've been really unhappy and when I try and write, I just can't do it and I get more frustrated.

I don't know when I will eventually finish this fic and I know that the explanation is long overdue, but I just wanted to make it clear that I haven't forgotten and it most definitely is not a case of 'I just can't be arsed'. _Believe me_, I'm arsed!

I'll do my best, and I'll be back some day in the (hopefully near) future and _**I really want to thank you for your support on this**_.

**Thank you very much. I hope you all understand.**

Bethany x

Further updates will be posted on...  
**Tumblr:** consulting-barista  
**Twitter:** cumbersomethin

_I just need a hug right now to be honest._


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